


Rip Tide

by airedis



Series: Crazy Magic Sugar [2]
Category: N.Flying (Band)
Genre: (again - kind of), (kind of), (read inside for more info on that), Blood, Blood Drinking, Blood Magic, Demon Summoning, Demon/Human Relationships, Demons, Dry Orgasm, M/M, Masturbation, Multiple Orgasms, Mutual Masturbation, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Switching, accidental praise kink, dubcon like elements, god kink??? idk how do u even tag this, incubus, just like...a lot of fucking tbh, slight D/s undertones, something approaching consensual voyeurism, terrified and aroused is the theme of this fic, these tags are still awful but you have a right to know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:42:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27296593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/airedis/pseuds/airedis
Summary: Hun makes a miscalculation
Relationships: Cha Hoon/Lee Seunghyub | J.DON
Series: Crazy Magic Sugar [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1627879
Comments: 6
Kudos: 21





	Rip Tide

**Author's Note:**

> what can you say about this except "i'm sorry". nobody asked for this but here it is  
> this was supposed to be short and pointless and clearly i only managed one of those
> 
> okay so minor warning for the dubcon-like elements: it's consensual but consented to out of desperation. basically "extreme confusion of fear and arousal". it's wanted but it's...complicated. u know how it be with the demon summoning. if this isn't for you, please feel free to click away!
> 
> don't worry about the practicalities of prep - it's demon sex magic. that's all you need  
> i mixed some supernatural tropes here but i won't tell if you don't

It’s one small mistake that does it. Hun looks up as the air clears, coughing away the smoke burning in his lungs, eyes stinging, and sees a figure in the middle of the array. It had worked — but something went wrong.

Maybe it’s the insomnia that unraveled it all. Certainly, that’s what led him to this moment, either way.

He’d been planning this out for weeks, double and triple checking every bit of information, tracing out the array with the utmost care, and practicing the incantation under his breath for hours on end to make sure he had it right. His terms were laid out flawlessly, agonized and poured over for an entire week to check for any and all possible loopholes lurking in the margins.

But something went wrong. Maybe it was the flames he’d used — _‘store bought is fine’, my ass_.

Finally able to see, Hun stares at the figure in the middle of his perfectly crafted circle and, despite the temperature in the kitchen having rocketed up, feels his blood chill through. The thing is human-shaped, a handsome young man rather than the over-sized, monstrous, four legged beast it’s supposed to be. There’s a distinct lack of coarse fur or thick tusks. Its hair is styled for god’s sake.

The second clue arrives when the thing steps out of the array like it’s not even there — that shouldn’t have been possible.

Hun is sure beyond belief that this — whatever-the-hell this is that he summoned — shouldn’t be able to step out of the circle, no matter what. Yet here it is, walking across Hun’s kitchen, shoes clicking softly against the laminate floor as it advances towards Hun. His back hits the wall and Hun feels a tremor of terror rocket through him, hot and painful amidst the freezing numbness of utter helplessness.

The demon crowds Hun, pressing him bodily into the wall, just a hair’s breadth away. A tremendous heat radiates from it, heady and cloying and overwhelming. Hun gulps, body shaking so terribly that he can’t even begin to hope that he can stop, and meets its eyes. With a gaze so intense that Hun fears his heart is likely to give out, the demon stares back

“You rang?”

It speaks softly but its voice reverberates in Hun’s chest, deep, bottomless. He feels sick.

“I didn’t —” Hun’s voice cracks, caught in his throat like twigs. He swallows painfully. “I didn’t summon you.”

He expects the demon to lash out, to cut across his chest with claws or snap his neck or — something vile and violent. What he gets instead is a quirked eyebrow and a placating smile.

“Oh, but you did. The call was loud and clear.”

“You’re not a Baku,” Hun pants out brilliantly, mind stuttering to a creaky halt.

“No, I’m not.”

Hun doesn’t think he can feel his hands anymore. The demon hasn’t moved, neither pressing in further nor stepping back. It forces the air from the room, stifling, and causes Hun to pull each breath into his lungs shallowly so as not to bring him into further risk of contact.

“You — I. I was summoning — calling — something else. Someone. I was t-trying to call someone else.” Hun squeezes his eyes and his words stutter out in a rush. “I need a Baku’s help. I was going to make a deal for protection and — and help. But it’s very specific and noth — no one else can help. Me. No one else can help me.”

He’s tripping over his words, falling forward on the uneven ground spread out before him. In the back of his head, Hun wonders how possible it is to actually die of fright. His heart thunders hollowly in his chest, pulse fluttering faster than a hummingbird’s wings. When he opens his eyes, the demon is waiting patiently.

“We have a bit of a problem, then,” it says lightly. “Once I’ve been summoned, I can’t leave until our contract is up, you see. So we’re going to have to make a deal.”

Well, that confirms it: Hun fucked up pretty spectacularly and now he’s going to get his heart devoured or something. _Fantastic_ , he thinks wildly.

Hun’s head swims.

“I can’t — I don’t —”

 _I don’t have anything. I didn’t plan for this._ The words don’t make it past his lips. With an inquisitive expression, the demon tilts its head to the side.

“Why don’t you tell me what your problem is and I’ll see what I can do to help.”

Its words sound gracious and it causes the hair to raise on the back of Hun’s neck. He wonders why it’s being so charitable and what he’ll have to offer in return to make it equivalent. Hun shivers and tries not to let it show.

“I have...nightmares and — and sleep paralysis. Every time I sleep, a — a Night Mare comes and sits on my chest and terrorizes me until I finally wake up. I don’t...I don’t sleep much anymore. I can’t sleep. And when I do, the — the demon comes back. I need it to go away.”

The Night Mare had attached itself to Hun what feels like eons ago. It’s been terrorizing him for so long that a time before it seems like nothing more than a dream, the stuff of fairy tales. Every night it waits, lurking somewhere just beyond, until Hun’s body gives out and his consciousness slips beneath the horizon like the sun. If he’s lucky, he can get an hour or two of uninterrupted sleep before the terrors start.

He’s not lucky very often.

The shift is usually subtle, changing so smoothly that Hun doesn’t notice it until his heart is racing and he’s jerking awake in bed. Of course, he can’t move once he’s awake, frozen in place — trapped — eyes darting around the ceiling and avoiding the darkest corners of his room. He only ever wants it to be over. What it is that Hun wants, however, is not what the Night Mare cares about.

It caves in his chest with an invisible weight, sweat beading on Hun’s skin as he comes face to face with mangled horrors. A hunched, old woman with sharp teeth and a distended jaw, a figure made of shadows with limbs stretched across the walls, something with long claws and too many eyes creeping just out of reach of his periphery, hanging in the dark. The Night Mare keeps him awake for hours, stifling the breath from his chest and rendering him immobile until it feels as if, this time, his heart really will give out.

Dawn approaches in a disorienting flash, the room devoid of light until Hun blinks and it’s all gone — the demons, the darkness, the creatures. On the nights that Hun can get to sleep, it is never restful, just a slow, insidious torture that drains his energy and errodes at his sanity. He needs the demon gone.

A Baku is his only hope, the only creature that can eat the bad dreams and force the Night Mare away. It wasn’t easy to find, but Hun couldn’t rest until he did. The nightly attacks worsened, as though the Mare knew he was trying to rid himself of it. Without a Baku’s help, he doesn’t know how long he’ll last.

Hun’s hands are clenched into fists, nails digging tiny divots into his palms. He waits for the drop. It comes in the form of four casually spoken words.

“I can help you.”

Hun, forgetting himself, blinks up at the demon. “What.”

“I can help you.” Each word is enunciated, slowed down so it can be more easily processed; Hun’s still having a hard time wrapping his head around it. “It’s not a permanent fix — only a Baku can do that. But I’m the next best thing.”

The demon levels a stare at Hun, a deceptively sweet smile on its lips as it says, “We’ll just make a trade. Every night, I’ll shoo away your Night Mares in return for a simple favor. Then you can sleep safe and sound, knowing no other demons can harm you.”

A magnetic pull draws Hun’s eyes to the creature, though he wants nothing more than to run away. It shakes him down to his core, locking him in place, nowhere to run. A heat to rival the temperature of the frightening demon twists in Hun’s stomach as a warm scent, spicy and sweet, uncurls in the air. Hun clenches as tightly as he can to fight off the urge to touch it, his hands shaking from more than fear. He feels delirious, the smell clouding up his head, only strengthening as each second ticks past. There’s something off about it, too enticing, a poison that promises a slow death. The demon stares at him, drawing Hun into the abyss of his eyes, beckoning him to fall. He could touch it, if he wanted to. Hun _knows_ the demon would let him. It’s addictive, the feeling dripping off of it and threatening to drag Hun under, if he let it.

Hun gulps, shaking his head to dislodge the enticing, murky fog. “I don’t — I don’t have anything to offer.”

The demon smiles and its tongue runs across its lips as its eyes run the length of Hun’s body. When their gazes reconnect, it purrs, “you have plenty to offer.”

Then its hand raises and fingertips brush along Hun’s cheek. He flinches and his heels bump against the wall as he shuffles back blindly, trying to put some distance between him and the creature standing before him. But his efforts are in vain; he’s trapped, and he has no choice but to make a deal.

“What are you?” he asks, body trembling.

It smiles, eyes soft. “A demon, of course.”

It’s tongue in cheek, sly, and the words flow over Hun, rushing in his ears and blocking everything else out as his fears fly into a frenzy. Something is very, _very_ wrong. 

“What —” _What kind?_ He wants to ask, terrified but needing to know. The words stop on his tongue, a cocktail of mistrust and fear.

The edges of the demon’s smile sharpen as it tilts its head down and leans in, lips pressed up against the shell of Hun’s ear. Hun flinches but its hand comes up and fingers brush along Hun’s jaw. He’s locked into place and the demon’s mouth, its breath, is hot against his skin as it speaks.

“Guess.”

 _An incubus_.

Hun’s breath stutters in his lungs and comes out in quick, shallow bursts. He needs to calm down, the exhaustion and panic mixing in a deadly surge, hanging him off the edge of consciousness. Maybe it’s that, maybe it’s his back up against the wall, maybe it’s just pure desperation fueled by the haze of adrenaline, but Hun opens his mouth. He doesn’t know why he says it. What falls out is not a scream or a protest, but a single word.

“Okay.”

The demon doesn’t have to ask what he means; the meaning shines through clear as day. It breathes in deep, nosing at the dip behind Hun’s jaw and pressing into the pounding pulse point, its chuckle pushing fire against Hun’s skin.

“Call me Seunghyub,” it says. “Nice to meet you.”

-

The demon — Seunghyub — gives him space after that, lets him have his panic attack in private. Hun tries to piece himself back together. He locks himself in the bathroom, curled up on the bath mat, the flimsy barrier of the door providing no real safety in the face of a demon, but the veneer of protection brings him a small sense of comfort. There’s no way to go about his life like normal after this but he pretends anyway, holed up on the floor as he ignores the demon on his couch.

Seunghyub, for his part, seems to respect Hun’s breakdown and keeps his distance. That is, until enough hours have crept past and Hun feels his eyes start to burn. Drowsiness brings with it the building, anxious anticipation of sleep.It rises up his esophagus like bile, choking and burning, spreading through his limbs until he’s weak and shaky. Every time Hun blinks, his eyes lingering closed longer than they should, he sees the shadows waiting for him. His heart gives a pathetic lurch.

He’d vacated the bathroom in a quiet hour and stolen away to his room to hide, but he can’t hide from sleep. Stubborn, he pushes on until his head lists to the side, snapping back up in a nauseating strike of wakefulness that leaves him reeling.

A pair of hands settle on his shoulders, jerking him into complete consciousness, and his heart is hammering at a pace so rapid Hun is sure he’s dying. His chair is spun around slowly and Seunghyub’s cheerful face greets him.

“Ready to sleep?”

Desperation and exhaustion mix with the fear, tipping the scale and pushing Hun over, sending him tumbling down, down, with no way out. He had heard a saying once. _Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t_. But the devil he knows is killing him, wrenching the life from him one breath at a time, night after night. 

Hun starts to shake, unable to move. They haven’t discussed this yet, haven’t laid out the exact terms and made a proper contract. Going into this with ambiguity is beyond dangerous — it’s downright deadly. Hun doesn’t know what tricks, what hidden meanings, lie in the spaces between Seunghyub’s words. He shouldn’t have even agreed before he’d had time to think everything through. Hun’s in too deep and he needs to pull back before he gets himself into even more trouble.

But he’s also so tired he thinks he’s going to be sick if he doesn’t get an even halfway decent night’s sleep. The incubus, however untrustworthy, can’t drag things out indefinitely like the Night Mare can and, at best, he can chase the other demon away. At least if Seunghyub kills him, it’ll happen all at once. Small favors. So he throws caution to the wind and watches it scatter about in shreds as he feels himself, out of body, nod his head.

In the next moment, Seunghyub is pulling Hun from his chair and leading him over to the bed.

For as frightening as the unknown demon is, the certainty of what awaits Hun if he lets the Night Mare continue to attach to him is far more terrifying. Letting it persist means a slow, delirious trudge towards a maddening death. Accepting Seunghyub’s help is a risk, but it’s one Hun has no choice but to take.

To say that he is calm, cool, and collected would be not only a gross understatement, it would be a flat out lie. He’s shaking as Seunghyub sits beside him, scared of both what he’s about to do as well as the creature he’s about to do it with. Combined with the lack of sleep, it sets his heart off at a rate that can’t be healthy. Hun has no idea what’s supposed to happen next.

Luckily, Seunghyub takes that uncertainty right out his hands by asking, “are you ready?”.

Hun most certainly is not, but he nods anyway. If all goes well, this will ideally be a mutually beneficial relationship and if it doesn’t, well, Hun will have to figure out how to get out of the deal with his soul still intact. He just wants to sleep, desperate to close his eyes and slip into unconsciousness.

Seunghyub leans in, gaze like a forest fire as he says, “I’m going to kiss you now” before doing just that.

His touch is a sting, shocking and sudden, making Hun’s head swim. This had happened before in the kitchen too, as though Seunghyub has poison pumping through his veins instead of blood. Maybe he does. His mouth is gentle against Hun’s but it leaves Hun’s lips numb anyway, all his nerve endings lit up like fireworks in the wake of contact. Hun tries to kiss back, to save face as he beats down the hot roil of terror, but is completely at the mercy of Seunghyub’s wave. He fights to stay afloat but he can feel himself slipping under, drowning in the current.

Seunghyub’s hands are at the hem of Hun's shirt, lifting it slowly until he breaks the kiss and slips the shirt over Hun’s head. Hun is exposed in more ways than one. He snaps back into the present as one of Seunghyub’s hands wraps around his side, fingers splayed against the back of Hun’s ribs as he buries his face in Hun’s neck. Hun trembles again.

With all the strength of fissured glass, Hun pushes Seunghyub away. To his credit — as much as you can give a demon, anyway — Seunghyub goes easily. He looks at Hun calmly, as though none of this affects him in the slightest. As though it’s all just part of the job.

“Can we just… skip all this and cut to the chase?” Hun asks, even as he dreads what is to come.

He keeps his gaze fixed on the sheets, eyes shielded behind the comforting barrier of his bangs.

“Sure.” Seunghyub’s voice is easy breezy. No problem.

He stands and shucks off his shirt to reveal a sturdy, muscular torso. No demon, no matter how human-like in shape, should look like that. Hun’s never been one for exercise and yet he still feels ashamed of his own body, thin and flimsy in comparison. He may be even more unprepared for this than he thought.

But it doesn’t really matter because Seunghyub unbuttons his pants and lets them drop to the floor, standing in the center of Hun’s tiny room without a a shame in the world. And he has no reason to — he stands impressively tall and broad, everything about him boasting. Hun hates the stir of heat boiling in his stomach, curling around his insides with impatient fingers. It must be some type of demon magic, a foreign power compelling Hun to look, to want to touch. He tears his eyes away.

Seunghyub saunters towards the bed and tugs at the leg of Hun’s pants.

“Off,” is all he says. Hun hastens to acquiesce.

The moment the last piece of clothing hits the floor, Seunghyub’s body covers his own, pressing Hun into the bed and trapping him in a prison of heat. Seunghyub’s skin burns against his, a white hot rush that leaves Hun scrambling for breath. His air is swallowed by Seunghyub, whose mouth covers his as one of his hands slips between their bodies and reaches forHun, long fingers completely encasing him. Hun gasps into Seunghyub’s mouth, the muffled sound turning into a ragged groan as Seunghyub’s hand drags over his dick.

Every sensation is heightened by Hun’s nerves, his awareness of every touch turned up to one hundred and twenty percent. It only gets worse. Seunghyub’s hand leaves and then the demon grasps both himself and Hun in one large hand. Hun breaks away from Seunghyub’s kiss, dimly aware that he couldn’t have been doing much more than whimpering brokenly into Seunghyub’s mouth. He tosses his head back against the pillows, a fire making its way up his body and igniting everywhere Seunghyub touches. Seunghyub needs to hurry the hell up or Hun’s going to come from just his hands. How embarrassing.

In his dazed state, Hun must say something to that effect out loud because Seunghyub laughs and pulls his hand away, only to prop up Hun’s knees before his hand returns. A fingertip sweeps down the length of Hun’s dick before it dips lower, skimming over sensitive, untouched skin. Seunghyub lowers his head and his tongue drags, hot and wet, against Hun’s hole. Hun only just stops himself from involuntarily pressing down onto his face, but the appendage is soon after replaced by a slender finger.

He must have done something to Hun, because when Seunhyub presses, his finger slides in easily. Hun feels every centimeter of it. Seunghyub slips his finger in and out slowly, his lips pressing chaste kisses to the insides of Hun’s thighs as Hun’s legs shake.

“Don’t feel the need to go slow on my account,” Hun hisses out, hips pushing down in tiny circles. He’s unable to stop himself despite the unease that still roils in his bones, pulled in by Seunghyub and swept along by his tide.

Seunghyub nips at his thigh and pushes in another finger. This one travels farther and Hun clutches at the sheets as Seunghyub stretches him open, bit by bit. Seemingly taking Hun’s words to heart, it’s not long before Seunghyub pushes in a third, his hand pumping faster. It doesn’t take much more to reduce Hun to a trembling mess, the physical arousal of fear giving way to a bodily reaction. Hun convinces himself that that’s all it is.

He tugs on the back of Seunghyub’s hair, signaling him up.

“Now,” he pants.

Hun can’t hold out any longer; he needs to get this over with. It feels like all control has been wrenched from him, leaving him helpless and burning.

Seunghyub presses a kiss into the corner of Hun’s mouth before settling back between Hun’s legs. Hun squeezes his eyes shut as he crushes the sheets beneath his hands. Finally, Seunghyub pulls his fingers out and Hun can’t stop himself from clenching down against the emptiness. But then something bigger nudges against him, settled lightly against his skin, and Hun can’t help the way his legs fall open.

Tomorrow, he’ll look back on himself with mortification, he’s sure, but for now he needs nothing more than to burn out the fire eating him alive.

Hun’s breath comes out too quickly, short pulls that make his chest flutter alarmingly, like a hummingbird’s wings.

“Take a deep breath and hold it,” Seunghyub instructs gently, a warm palm smoothing over Hun’s side. Hun does, drawing in a shaky breath and holding it in his aching lungs. “Now let it out.”

Hun’s breath goes out in a rush that stutters in his throat as Seunghyub pushes into him. His legs snap around Seunghyub, heels buried into the dip of his back, circling him, trapping Seunghyub between his thighs. Seunghyub stops when he bottoms out, filling Hun completely. His hips are pressed into Hun’s skin, the bones dipping in as if they’ll leave marks behind. Incensed, Hun legs out a pitiful keen and rolls himself down on Seunghyub.

Taking that as his cue, Seunghyub pulls back and rocks his hips shallowly, too lightly to do anything other than send Hun into agony. He bites back the surge of fear that floods through him and wrestles for a sense of control over a situation that has completely slipped out of his hands. Throat quivering, Hun drags in a breath and says, “more”. Seunghyub, however, keeps up his excruciatingly slow pace, going down without resistance when Hun pulls at him. Hun’s arms come up around his shoulders, nails burying into Seunghyub’s skin as he pants against his ear. He digs his heels into Seunghyub’s waist and grinds down as far as he can.

“More,” he breathes, the command piercing through the haze of confusing desire.

Seunghyub listens this time.

Now, he pulls back further, doesn’t waste his time before slamming forward into Hun, his hips moving faster until Hun can do nothing but take it, too overwhelmed to try to match a demon. His eyelids flutter, stomach clenching as Seunghyub hits a spot in him that has static dancing across his vision. He clutches weakly at Seunghyub’s back, body rocking as Seunghyub thrusts into him.

Hun is equal parts terrified and aroused, the fear winning out and causing his erection to flag even as he pushes down onto Seunghyub’s dick. His heart pounds sickeningly, rocketing in his chest and sending tremors down his arms and legs. Seunghyub’s touch is like a brand, his fingertips searing into Hun’s hips and spreading out like wildfire. It tingles across Hun’s skin, sinking in deep until he feels a fierce pang of forceful arousal scorch through his belly. Once soft, Hun begins to harden again as Seunghyub hits deep.

With the next thrust, Hun’s back arches off the bed, hands scrabbling at Seunghyub’s back, his nails gouging into the skin there.

“Can you feel it?” Seunghyub asks and runs a hand down Hun’s heaving chest.

All along Hun’s body, sparks spring in Seunghyub’s wake, flickering like a faulty wire.

“What are you doing?” Hun gasps out in fear.

“Helping.” Seunghyub’s hips continue to roll languidly, pounding into Hun smoothly, and Hun has forgotten whether he wants them to or not. “Is it okay?” 

Hun can’t think straight.

“Just do it,” he says through gritted teeth. In contrast, his hands clench tighter onto Seunghyub, afraid and unwilling to let go, pulling himself in deeper.

A moment later, a nauseating rush of desire crashes through Hun. He’s fully hard and aching once more, every muscle in his body tight and strained towards Seunghyub. It’s sudden and intense, invasive in a way that feels like something sneaking into his veins and corrupting his cells all at once. Seunghyub is a poison, sweet and deadly.

He’s going to destroy Hun.

With a choked off cry, Hun wraps his legs around Seunghyub and pulls him in deeper. As if his body is working on primal instinct alone, he claws at the demon, bringing him closer until Hun is engulfed in his heat, blazing from within. The sensation balances on a needle point, teetering between excruciating and exhilarating. There’s no way that Hun is meant to last. 

Seunghyub snaps his hips forward, his teeth latching onto Hun’s shoulder. It’s not hard enough to draw blood but it’s enough to leave marks behind, the indentation of his teeth settling in Hun’s skin and inciting a riot in each and every nerve in his body. Hun shudders, back bowed off the bed as he attempts to push himself against Seunghyub, to fuse the two of them together, a burning delirium clouding his head in a shroud of thick, acrid fog. Seunghyub bites him again, at the juncture of his neck this time, and Hun sees explosions erupt behind his eyes in time to Seunghyub’s thrusts.

When Seunghyub wraps a hand around him, long fingers encircling Hun’s dick, that is all it takes to do him in; the feeling rips through Hun, taking hold of him and dragging him under. Hun jerks involuntarily and his vision flashes white as he shudders, too overcome to even make a noise as ropes of his own come splatter against his chest.

He’s left breathless and shuddering, body burning up for just a moment before sizzling out. Hun is a drop of water upon a molten plate, evaporated to nothing in an instant beneath Seunghyub, barely even a wisp of steam. He never stood a chance.

White fades to black and Hun collapses pathetically against the bed, completely drained. He’s passed out before Seunghyub even lets go of him.

-

The room is still dark when Hun finally pries his eyes open. They feel sticky, swollen, and his vision is blurred to high hell as he blinks slowly. He feels lost for a long moment, wading through time in his terribly sleep addled mind. Everything is fuzzy around him, sound blocked in his ears like his head is full of molasses. Hun lays in bed, sunk into the mattress as if pressed down by a great weight, and pulls as much focus as he can to the forefront of his mind.

It’s dark. That means he probably only got a few hours of good sleep and it’ll be bright soon. Despite that — and despite his body feeling like a thousand pounds — he feels good. Rested. Willing to give credit where it’s due, Hun figures that maybe he didn’t make as terrible of a deal as he originally thought. True to his word, Seunghyub gave him a nightmare-free sleep and at least a few hours of solid rest, which is more than he’s had in...quite some time. It was certainly more than Hun had expected but it seems to have worked out well enough.

His balance is off as he swings his feet over the side of the bed, weak and wobbly as his bare feet hit the cold, wooden floor. On the bedside table, the shine of the digital clock stands out in the darkness, the red numbers glaring out into the room. Hun doesn’t pay it much mind, glancing at it out of habit — and does a double take.

The numbers on the clock make sense. What doesn’t make sense is the little red dot blazing steadily next to the PM indicator. That can’t be true.

Nearly blind in the darkness, Hun feels around for his phone, fingers wrapping around it greedily when he finally finds it. The numbers are the same here too and Hun’s mouth drops open in disbelief. He’d slept through the night and well into the next day, the sun having risen and set once more while he was passed out in bed.

It worked. It fucking worked.

Hun’s head swims, reeling, and he feels a wave of dizzying clarity wash over him. No, not as terrible of a deal as it could’ve been, indeed.

 _I need a drink_.

As that thought pushes through his head, Hun’s throat catches, each swallow feeling like sandpaper. He shuffles out of his room and into the well lit living room. Seunghyub is lying on the couch, an arm behind his head as he watches some made-for-TV movie. As their eyes meet, Hun feels like he’s put on full display.

It’s strange to feel so exposed, standing fully clothed in his own house, and that’s when he belatedly realizes that he is, in fact, fully clothed. He had fallen asleep almost immediately, energy drained, head blissfully blank, but he’d certainly had no presence of mind to do much more than close his eyes. Which means, he understands with mounting horror, that Seunghyub had cleaned inside and out, and dressed him some time after Hun had fallen asleep with Seunghyub still buried inside him.

Hun’s face burns. This whole “morning after” thing wouldn’t be so humiliating if Seunghyub just — left. But he can’t do that because they made a deal. (Or part of one, at least.) So now Hun has a demon living in his house, just waiting for night to come around so he can screw Hun into oblivion and suck out all his energy or life force or whatever it is incubi do. He can’t deal with this without coffee, but it’s nearing seven PM and, coupled with his insomnia problems, he’ll never get to sleep if he does that. Seunghyub smiles at him pleasantly and Hun finally tears his eyes away from him.

Fuck it, he’s getting coffee.

The array is still painted on the tiles, pristine as ever, and Hun barely keeps himself from petulantly scuffing up the edges with his foot while he waits for his coffee to percolate. He’s settled at his kitchen table, a warm mug steaming between his hands, when Seunghyub walks in and sits down across from him. Hun takes a brief moment to resent having a second chair even though he lives alone.

He turns away, angling his body towards the opening of the room so he can ignore the demon in front of him. Seunghyub, for his part, doesn’t seem bothered by it in the slightest, choosing to watch Hun sipping his coffee with apparent rapt interest, chin propped up in his hand.

“You probably shouldn't be drinking coffee this late if you want to get to sleep later,” he says casually.

Hun takes a long drink, looking pointedly away. _Maybe I don’t want to sleep_ , he thinks. He’s being a brat, even if only in his own head, but after the day he had yesterday, he thinks he’s entitled to a bit of brattiness. Hun pulls his feet up onto his chair, toes curled over the edge. He staunchly refuses to look at the demon on the other side of the table, choosing instead to believe that he’s alone and everything is normal.

Thus turns out to be a difficult objective to accomplish when Seunghyub _insists_ on talking.

“Why do you drink that if you have problems sleeping?” Hun doesn’t answer, studying a cracked tile on the floor in the corner of the room. Unbothered by the lack of response, Seunghyub continues to muse out loud.“Or, do you not want to sleep?” 

Hun’s fingers tighten around his mug but he keeps his mouth shut. “Speaking of sleeping…” he starts. Hun braces himself and finally turns back to face Seunghyub. He’s met with Seunghyub’s eyes, unwavering and resolute.

“We should probably discuss the terms of our agreement in full.”

Seunghyub is not one to do things by halves, it seems. Hun can begrudgingly respect that.

What follows is a lengthy, if tense, discussion of the exact details of their arrangement: every night that Hun wishes aid in an uninterrupted, peaceful sleep, Seunghyub will provide his special brand of help and protection in return for Hun’s energy. Breach of contract is punishable by a burning, feverish rage that would leave Hun unable to sleep forevermore until it eats up every last bit of his energy, and Seunghyub would be banished from the mortal earth, a hunger gnawing at him that can never be sated.

All in all, reasonable enough for a deal with the devil.

Seunghyub, as it turns out, is incredibly lenient for a demon, at least as far as Hun can tell; the punishment is standard, nothing targeted or especially tortuous to trick Hun into being locked in a neverending deal. After a month, Hun can free himself from the contract if he wishes: no cancellation fee, no loss of life, no repercussions other than the possible recurrence of previous sleep demon related issues. That means that Hun just has to hold out for a month. Maybe he’ll try to do the proper summoning again — _no_ substitutions this time — or maybe he’ll be finally cured.

Just a month. He can do that.

“Oh,” Seunghyub says with a snap of his fingers. The sound is sharp and alarming in the quiet kitchen, and Hun jolts, on edge. “There _is_ one caveat.”

“To what?” Hun asks wearily.

“To the whole ‘one month’ thing.”

Over the table, Seunghyub meets his eyes and Hun tries to figure out if this is a trap, if this is where it all truly goes to hell. There’s nothing in Seunghyub’s gaze to suggest that a trick is forthcoming, but Hun’s not exactly in the business of cold reading demons. He takes a deep breath.

“What is it?”

Seunghyub leans back in his chair. “It’s easy. It’s something you can’t do, actually.”

Hun frowns, eyebrows drawing together. “What do you mean?”

“It’s an old rule. It comes from a long, long time ago.”

Seunghyub looks away, staring off somewhere into the depths of the cupboards. If he were anyone else, if he were _human_ , Hun would probably say that he were nervous. But he’s not human. He’s not human at all.

“It’s the one thing that overrules the decided length and terms of any given contract. But like I said, it’s simple. There’s a way that you can never address me. As long as you don’t call me this one thing, you’re good to go.”

Hun’s eyes narrow. “And what’s that?”

“You don’t call me God.”

The words come out casual but Seunghyub’s gaze snaps back to Hun’s face, eyes deep and unfathomable as the depths of the ocean. Hun’s brain crashes into overdrive, frantic and fumbling. Regardless of the fact that Hun would never address anyone like that in the first place, much less Seunghyub, he’s now hyper alert to the word. How often does he say it without even thinking? Hun’s eyes dark over the surface of the table, unseeing, as he quietly flies into a panic.

“Why not? What happens if I call you G— _that_?”

Seunghyub leans forward, drawing Hun’s attention back on him; he’s got his elbows on the table, his hands clasped in front of him as all the livelihood drops away, a deadly serious expression now resting on his features.

“Then you’re mine,” he says gravely.

All at once, Hun grasps the gravity of the situation.

“What does that — what do you mean? What does that mean?”

A strange, tingling numbness seeps through Hun’s insides, vibrating behind his eyes and beading at his temples like sweat. His throat is tight, air barely forcing its way past the panic and into his lungs.

“That means that if you ever call me that — _ever_ — then it doesn’t matter what we agreed to. The second you acknowledge me as your God, you become mine.”

Hun’s breaths are rapid and shallow, pistoning in his lungs. He’s on the verge of hyperventilation or a panic attack. Maybe both. He wrestles to pull in air and keep it.

“What does that mean?” Hun struggles to ask. “Yours?”

It doesn’t help that Seunghyub’s eyes never stray from Hun’s face, locked on as if he’s waiting to strike. Seunghyub sighs, looking somehow tired.

“It means what it means. You would become, essentially...my own.”

Something in his eyes has a veneer of regret, giving way to the ridiculous notion that he’s genuinely apologetic about the whole thing. Hun almost laughs at himself for thinking such a thing, a hysteric incredulity building in him.

“Look,” Seunghyub says. “There’s no loopholes. That’s it. I can even stop you from saying it if you want.”

Hun says nothing, shaking his head sharply as he frantically tries to stop quaking in his seat.

“Why are you telling me this? Why wouldn’t you just let me say it without knowing?”

“I don’t wish to take an unknowing participant as my own, just as I don’t wish to provide you with help that you haven’t asked for.”

Seunghyub’s words sound gussied up, too good to be true. There has to be a catch hidden somewhere inside.

“I won’t try to trick you into saying it, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Seunghyub’s eyes narrow and for a moment he looks every bit the demon Hun knows he really is, rage restrained and patience thin. “ I wouldn't have told you in the first place if that was my intention.

Hun’s tremors worsen and he sways, about to pitch out of his seat.

It’s not as if Seunghyub has gone against his word — in fact, he’s promised nothing at all prior to this. He’s an incubus and that means he’s dangerous, his words meant to entice and seduce. Hun has no reason to trust him, not when Seunghyub is making a deal for his soul. He stays silent, shaking from head to toe.

“Listen,” Seunghyub says, leaning forward. His face is imploring, as sincere as can be, but it does nothing to quell the terror Hun feels. “I can’t leave until the contract is finished. The summoning was binding on its own, it keeps me tied to you whether we like it or not. But I can make this easier on you. I can help you, if you let me.”

Hun is rooted to the spot, a cold wave of realization crashing into him. This is it.

“There’s nothing I can do?” Hun’s voice is small. Strained. Broken. He can’t find it in himself to care much.

Seunghyub closes his eyes, brow furrowed, and massages his temples, like he’s the one suffering at the end of his rope. Hun wants to laugh, the desperate, hysterical kind that rips from your throat because laughing is the only thing you can do when you’re staring down the devil. Seunghyub speaks softly, resigned. It’s not his place to feel that way.

“No, there’s nothing else.”

It’s not acceptance, exactly, not when everything in him wants to continue to desperately fight against reality, but a sort of numb resignation that creeps through him. He’s drained, no energy left in him to care. Later, a flood of horror may wash through him for this decision, but for now he has nothing left in him to commit to anymore fear.

“Okay,” Hun says. “Whatever. Let’s just get this over with.”

Seunghyub catches his eye, drawing Hun’s attention to him. “I’ll do my best to make this easy on you,” he promises.

What good is the word of a demon?

“Sure.”

Looking as though he wants to say something, Seunghyub opens his mouth around the words, but in the end, all he does is purse his lips and give a small shake of his head. He gives Hun a moment to collect himself in silence, to stay the trembling of his hands, before asking, “are you ready?”

Hun has never felt less ready in his life but he nods anyway, the motion jerky and disjointed.

Now that they’ve both agreed to terms, Hun figures they’ll shake on it or something, maybe sign a fancy contract and be done with it. He's not prepared for them to seal the deal with a blood oath.

“It’s in the fine print I told you about,” Seunghyub says, rolling up one of his sleeves. “Sorry.”

Of course it is. Hun eyes him warily, worn out. No more surprises. “How does this work?”

Hun’s not about to commit to yet another mistake without knowing fully what he’s getting himself into, not with how deep he’s already in it. Once is more than enough.

“We state that we agree to the deal, exchange a little bit of blood, and it becomes binding until the end of the contract. Easy.” _Easy. Sure._ “Would you like to go first or shall I?”

Hun waves at him, still too shaken up to act on his own, and Seunghyub begins.

“I agree to the aforementioned terms of our deal. I vow to uphold my part through to the end.”

 _Simple enough_ , Hun thinks, almost relieved by the lack of surprises after everything. That is, until Seunghyub raises a hand, fingernail sharpening into a point that drags across the inside of his arm with one short stroke. Blood beads at the surface almost immediately, a stark crimson line blooming across his skin. It snakes down his arm, a thin, streaky trail, and Hun’s eyes follow the blood as it pools in the crook of Seunghyub’s arm, shiny and vermillion. He can’t tear his gaze away from the rivulets creeping down the smooth skin. Engrossed, Hun’s heart thuds worryingly as the red creates a spiderweb tangle of stark color.

He’s never thought of arms as being particularly vulnerable before, but seeing the angry incision slowly leaking the blood from Seunghyub’s body, well — he does now.

Seunghyub sees his pause and mistakes his stillness for hesitation. Hun _is_ hesitant, but it’s accompanied by an unhealthy dose of fascination. Something in him shivers to life, hungry and perilous.

“It’s your turn,” Seunghyub prompts gently, more considerate than a demon has any right to be.

Hun’s heart rate kicks up but he’d be lying if he said now that it’s only from fear. Breathing out the uncertainty, he repeats the oath but pauses once he gets to the incision part, wondering how exactly he’s supposed to do this.

“I can help you, if you want.” Seunghyub looks down at him, gaze hungry. “Or you can do it yourself.”

Hun pushes his sleeve up and thrusts out his arm. “No, just — get it over with.”

Seunghyub grasps his arm, tugs him forward slightly, fingers wrapped tight around Hun’s wrist. “This may hurt a little,” he warns.

Then his nail slices through Hun’s arm, shallow like a paper cut. Hun hisses through his teeth, hand clenching, but Seunghyub has already released him. He doesn’t move back, though, and his eyes sear into Hun.

“What now?” Hun asks, holding his arm slightly askew so as to not drip blood all over himself. It pumps from him woozily and Hun carefully unclenches his hand.

“Now we exchange blood.”

“How?”

“We need to consume it. Even just a drop is okay, but more works better. Then we mix our blood and it’s done.”

His voice is neutral, like he’s discussing weather patterns or a traffic build up. It should be comforting, the distance it creates, and yet Seunghyub looks so completely out of place in Hun’s kitchen — the sleeves of his nice shirt rolled up, blood dripping lazily down his arm — that a spike of anxiety seizes through Hun. The array Seunghyub first arrived from barely a day ago is less than a meter away.

Hun has blood welling on his arm, a demon in his kitchen, and absolutely no control over his life, he’s sure of it.

Still, he nods his head even if he has no idea how to go about this in spite of Seunghyub’s explanation, admittedly poor as it was. Seunghyub takes matters into his own hands, quite literally, and pulls Hun’s arm up to his mouth, lips hovering just above the skin. He raises his eyes to Hun’s looking at him through his lashes.

“May I?”

His breath fans across Hun’s arm, kips brushing against the skin light as a feather. Hun swallows and nods again, not trusting his voice. Seunghyub dips his head and his tongue lays flat against Hun’s arm, smooth and warm as he laps at the blood from the cut. Hun locks his knees but his legs continue to shake and he’s transfixed by the sight of Seunghyub’s tongue on him. He’s frozen in place through a strange blend of fear and fascination. His arm shakes in Seunghyub’s grasp, trembling beneath his lips, blood smearing across his skin.

He has no idea how long it is before Seunghyub pulls away, licks the blood from his lips and meets Hun’s eyes with a stare that sends a heated arrow stabbing through Hun’s core. It nearly strips the danger of the situation completely from his mind. Hun hangs on by a thread.

“Your turn.” Seunghyub’s mouth curves up in a smile, inviting and charming, and Hun forgets how to breathe.

He’s stood stock still, unable to move even as Seunghyub releases his arm, out of body as Seunghyub swipes two fingers through the trail of his own blood. It leaves behind a dark smudge in its wake. Seunghyub takes a step closer, his other hand snaking behind Hun and pulling his close, until Hun is pressed up against him.

“Let me help you,” he breathes, voice low and impossibly deep.

Against his better judgement, a shock of arousal tears through Hun, deliberate and slow. Seunghyub’s fingers come up, resting lightly against the swell of Hun’s lips. His mouth drags across Hun’s cheek, his voice hot on Hun’s ear.

“Open up.”

In the next moment, he’s nudging his fingers into Hun’s mouth and pressing them down onto Hun’s tongue. At the intrusion, Hun gags unexpectedly, throat constricting, his mouth filling with saliva. The taste is metallic, the flavor seeping into his tongue and taking room there. He swallows it all down, gagging again, and breathes in deep through his nose as he wrenches Seunghyub’s hand away.

Seunghyub’s fingers slide out of his mouth wetly, a gossamer string of saliva trailing until it snaps against Hun’s chin. Hun feels hot, neck burning as he wipes his mouth. Somehow, what just happened feels dirtier, more intimate than what they did the night before. He wants to crawl into a hole, ashamed, but Seunghyub tilts Hun’s chin up, drawing his attention back to the matter at hand.

“One more thing,” he says.

He lines Hun’s arm up with his to complete the exchange and the oath, but before he can pressed their skin together, Hun rips out of his grasp.

“Wait,” he blurts out warily. “Is this safe?”

Nevermind that he’s already swallowed some of Seunghyub’s blood. Nevermind that none of it matters in the end if he so much as slips up even a single time. The full weight of the situation presses in on Hun at once.

“It’s impossible for me to carry diseases in my blood,” Seunghyb says evenly. “Don’t worry, you’re safe.”

It’s not exactly what Hun’s looking for but it’s what he’s getting. With that, Seunghyub presses their arms together, mixing their blood. _You’re safe_ , he says, but Hun couldn’t be any less so. Lava courses through his body, streams through his veins from the cut in his arm. The cut is on fire, the flames spreading out to blaze across his whole body. It doesn’t hurt, not exactly, like merely the distant sting of a faded burn, but it’s terrifying in its entirety and in the way that Hun doesn’t want it to stop.

Something about it feels good, a sweet kind of fever, a spice that burns away and leaves behind a sticky, sugary, syrupy mess.

He doesn’t realize it until Seunghyub brushes a hand down his spine, his other arm sliding out from in-between them and wrapping around Hun to hold him up as the ritual completes, but he’s collapsed against Seunghyub’s chest. Hun is weak limbed as he clutches feebly at Seunghyub’s clothes, face flushing and heart hammering as the burn in his arm dies down while it flares up throughout the rest of him. He must make some kind of noise because Seunghyub shushes him, his voice close as he speaks.

“What you’re feeling is normal.”

What he’s feeling is _on fire_.

“Your body is reacting to my blood. In a few hours, you’ll adapt to it and the feeling will go away.”

Hun is hard, embarrassingly plastered against Seunghyub, pelvis pressed up tight against him as he fights not to move. Seunghyub is still against his hip but he stays still, calm and placid in contrast to the storm raging in Hun. It’s the blood in him making him feel like this, pulling into him a desperation so powerful it leaves him dizzy. Fingers digging into the shirt beneath his hands and bunching it tightly, Hun begins to unravel.

Seunghyub’s hand continues moving up and down Hun’s back and Hun suspects it’s intended to be comforting, but with his insides ignited, it’s just agitating Hun, riling him up and making his skin sting. Oversensitive.

“I can help you with it if you’d like,” Seunghyub says, almost offhandedly.

Hun comes back to himself at that and pushes away, leaving behind unsightly wrinkles in Seunghyub’s shirt. He has half a mind to accept the offer, a keening yearning stirring in his stomach, but no, he won’t. When he shakes his head, his brain sloshes around inside nauseatingly with the motion.

“No,” Hun says. His tongue is heavy and thick in his mouth. “I’ll ride it out myself.”

His disobedient mind conjures up images of riding something — someone — else, skin slick with sweat, the air around him oppressive in its heat, pressing himself down onto Seunghyub as he — 

Hun clenches his eyes shut, hands balled into fists as he fights down the surge of arousal. He shakes his head again, more vigorously, tries to dislodge the thoughts floating around in his brain.

“I can wait it out,” he pants, exhausted and breathless from nothing at all.

Seunghyub concedes and respectfully keeps his distance as he steps away and turns to leave the kitchen. His words, though, sound like a temptation. Or a promise.

“You know where to find me if you change your mind.”

Hun shivers and presses down against the front of his pants, muscles aching from the tension in his body. When he finally composes himself enough to walk back to his room, what he doesn’t expect to see is Seunghyub lounging on his bed. He resists the urge to cover himself when Seunghyub’s eyes fall on him, instead shuffling over to his computer desk.

With the screen bright before him, Hun finds himself at a loss, mind going blank at what to do now. He needs to distract himself, to push the haze of arousal to the back of his thoughts and get on with the day, but the feeling coats him like the heavy pressure of a brewing thunderstorm. Seunghyub’s presence beside him is looming, intimidating. He seems to be waiting to see what Hun will do next but what _he’ll_ do in response, Hun has no idea.

So Hun fumbles, fire raging inside him as he does his best to ignore it and the demon literally lying in wait just an arm’s length away. He shifts uncomfortably in his chair, pushing down the urge to adjust himself or to shuck his pants off entirely. Whatever’s on the screen now, his eyes aren’t taking any of it in, glazed over with a sheen of arousal as he runs on autopilot for absolutely nobody’s benefit. Hun refuses to give in; he may have just made a bloodbound deal but he’s still his own person, in charge of his own decisions. He’s not going to lay back and spread his legs just because Seunghyub wants him to, not again.

Once was humiliating enough.

Whatever happens from now on, happens on Hun’s terms, he’ll make sure of it. It’s the least he can do for himself after everything that’s happened. What a powerful position it’s put him in too, stupid hard and straining at the front of his pants as Seunghyub waits patiently, poised, as if he has not a care in the world with his head propped up in his hand as he watches Hun. His eyes aren’t veiled in the slightest — a reminder of what Hun could have if he chose. The possibilities are spread out right in front of Hun, the pretty package unwrapped, ribbons trailing over the sheets in undulating waves.

Hun’s neck burns from it.

He ignores it as best he can, for as long as he can before his mind veers off-course once more, wandering wildly as Hun tries to pull himself together. Seunghyub isn’t even doing anything — not moving, not making a sound — but his mere presence is distraction enough, overtaking Hun’s thoughts and sending him spiraling. Hun chances a glance at him, eyes sweeping away shamefully when he sees that Seunghyub is still looking. But as Hun directs his eyes away, his gaze travels down the length of Seunghyub’s body and Hun sees just how interested Seunghyub is.

Despite his cool exterior, the front of Seunghyub’s pants are tented, displaying his prominent interest. Hun freezes, just barely able to keep from hunching in on himself to hide as precome drips out of him, dampening the front of his pants. It would be pathetic, if he wasn’t so turned on — or maybe that just makes it that much worse. His ears burn red, he can feel it, knows that Seunghyb can see it and, no, that _definitely_ makes it all worse.

Contrary to what Seunghyub said, it seems to be worsening by the second. A flush creeps over Hun’s face, settling heavy on his cheeks with a burning weight, sweat prickling at his temples. His fingertips tingle as if his blood is boiling just beneath his skin. On the desk, his grip tightens around the mouse, the plastic giving a pitiful creak beneath the pressure.

Hun no longer has a concept of time, just the ache pulsing through him. He’s half aware that he’s trembling, the wet patch growing on the front of his pants steadily. Seunghyub’s eyes are still scorching against his skin, searing into him like a brand. Hun fists a hand in the knee of his pants, fingers contracting (and releasing and contracting) around the fabric. He’s not ignoring it anymore, can’t ignore something like this. Somewhere along the line, he deliberately decided to continue to put himself through self imposed torture, all for the sake of pride. Hun is put on display for Seunghyub’s amusement, hot and bothered and leaking all over himself. He must be a masochist too, because, even in this state, there’s no way he’s giving in.

A keen rights its way up his throat and his skull cracks against the back of the chair as Hun throws his head back, face turned skyward as he pants raggedly, mouth dropped open. Hun’s body is frozen like this, locked into place. He can’t move, not even the smallest shift, for the tiniest bit of friction feels like hell and edges him closer to destruction.

He doesn’t see the end coming.

It slams into him with an intense pain that rolls through his body, seizing all his muscles with sharp hooks that piece beneath his skin and drag him in a million different directions. The pain is agonizing for a white hot second, flashing behind his eyes like a lit match, before all the tension drains away at once. Hun collapses in the chair, deflating, melting, as all his strength is leeched from him. 

He lies limp in the chair, pants sodden and dick softening, but with none of the satisfaction of release. Despite all the precome that now coats the insides of his thighs, he never actually came. It’s the final nail of defeat, the last act of shame that, after everything, Hun’s left an untouched, sticky mess with no release and Seunghyub watched it all happen. Hun has nothing left in him to even stir embarrassment at that, spent as he is.

As if roused by Hun’s thoughts of him, Seunghyub shifts, slipping off the bed with grace. Hun screws his eyes shut. That only amplifies the voice in his ear, Seunghyub murmuring as he smooths down Hun’s dishevelled hair.

“You did so well.”

Hun doesn’t have anything left in him, couldn’t get hard again even if he wanted to, but a weak moan pushes past his lips in response to the curl in his stomach. Seunghyub runs his fingers through Hun’s hair once more before he leaves Hun to his drop, letting him pull himself back together in peace.

With unfocused eyes, Hun stares at the wall until he can find the strength of will to rise from the chair. He hobbles into the bathroom on wobbling legs and tosses his soaked clothes into the hamper to be dealt with later. Hun avoids the mirror as he steps past it, not wanting to look at the pathetic mess he’s become. The water is scalding as it cascades down on him, washing the last few hours from his skin.

-

For all intents and purposes, Hun should be completely wiped out — and he is. That doesn’t convince his body to go to sleep though. He’s up for the next two days, napping in brief thirty minute intervals, waking so fast it feels like a blink. They’re more momentary lapses in consciousness than anything else, his body kept awake by the day-long sleep he’d gotten before. His body begins to ache, head throbbing in a constant rhythm, a dull roar filling the silence in his ears. He’s probably snappy and irritable, a nightmare to be around. But with only a demon to keep him company, Hun can’t be bothered to care.

Yet, throughout it all, Seunghyub has become the strangest demon Hun has ever encountered — not that he's encountered many demons in his time. Despite having laid claim on Hun, he’s unendingly sweet, a familiar kind of playfulness permeating his actions. Seunghyub treats Hun carefully, obliging every one of his offhand commands and, even more bizarrely, not even hinting at their arrangement, much less trying to get Hun into bed with him. It’s as though he’s forgotten the terms of their deal.

Hun hasn’t forgotten though, and he keeps one eye on Seunghyub at all times, waiting for everything to blow up in his face. Things are too quiet, too easy. There must be something about to go wrong. Seunghyub keeps his distance and doesn’t try to touch Hun, not even casually, but that means nothing.

Hun, in a bout of sleep deprived suspicion, questions Seunghyub about it.

“Someone complying willingly always gives better energy than someone being forced.”

“You catch more flies with honey?” Hun asks, raising an eyebrow.

Seunghyub shrugs. “If that’s how you like to think of it.” He leans in close, the hint of a sly grin on his face. “It’s sweeter that way too, don’t you think?”

Hun pushes him away with a huff.

It doesn’t take long before Hun is forced to play his hand, eyes stinging incessantly, blurry and red. Although he agreed to it, he’s not sure he’s ready to face reality again. They exist in limbo, stuck between distrust and a promise. Hun keeps himself from speaking, the threat of a single word weighing on his mind incessantly. _“God.”_ He could be thankful to Seunghyub for telling him, for helping him at all, but he chooses to spite the demon for it instead. Seunghyub is the one who trapped him in this sea of uncertainty.

But Hun doesn’t have a choice, he needs to sleep before things get bad. And they’re getting bad. It’s not as if he has to purposely avoid sleep, after all, if he wanted to sleep without Seunghyub’s protection, that’s within the parameters of the deal. He just can’t sleep at all, physically unable to let himself go under. That said, Hun knows that it’s the fear that lurks in the back of his mind, preventing him from relaxing enough to sleep. Even if he didn’t have insomnia, he doesn’t think he could get to sleep like this. Well, if he could sleep at all, he wouldn’t have gotten into this mess in the first place. The bitter thought rings through his head.

It’s time to ask for help.

That’s how Hun finds himself hovering awkwardly next to the couch, searching for the right timing to interject himself into Seunghyub’s TV watching experience. He watches a lot of television for a frightening, demonic creature from another realm, but perhaps that’s all he cares to do with his free time if he’s not able to spend it between the sheets with Hun. In the end, it’s Seunghyub who breaks the moment, tipping his head back on the armrest to look up at Hun and snapping Hun out of his spiraling musing.

“Do you want to sleep tonight?” Saved from having to broach the topic on his own, Hun nods, equal parts relieved and apprehensive. “When?”

Seunghyub rolls over onto his stomach, a thin sliver of his torso revealed with the action. Hun’s eyes track it before his gaze snaps back up to Seunghyub’s face.

“Now?” Seunghyub asks.

“When...ever.” The words are slow, dragged down with hesitation. Hun looks away. 

When he turns to walk out of the room, the motion stiff, he’s stopped by Seunghyub’s hand on his wrist.

“Now?” he asks again, face imploring, serious in a way that suggests he needs Hun to be honest.

Hun’s stomach drops. “Yes.”

Seunghyub tugs on his arm and guides Hun around the couch as he sits up to meet him.

“Come here,” he murmurs, bringing Hun down practically on top of him.

He buries his face against Hun’s hair and, for no conceivable reason, the contact actually makes Hun feel better, if only a little. The knot in his chest loosens slightly. It takes the edge off. Seunghyub’s lips land on Hun’s cheek and he mouths his way down Hun’s face to his jaw, taking his time. Hun squirms, uncomfortable. Seunghyub is moving slowly, perhaps considerate of Hun, and Hun is caught between wanting him to go faster and not wanting him to move at all. A battle picks up inside him, pitting chronic uneasiness against building arousal, with Hun cough smack dab in the middle.

Hun shifts, a small noise of discomfort leaving him. Seunghyub utters a soft, calming noise and continues to trail kisses down Hun’s neck. It’s a marked difference from their first time, unrushed and languid, when it had been quick and dirty. Hun figures that’s at least partly his fault for wanting everything finished as quickly as possible, but he’s not willing to own up to it out in the open.

After what seems like an agonizingly long time and what has surely left Hun with at least a couple of bruises stained on his skin, Seunghyub’s lips finally meet with Hun’s. It catches him off guard, the surprise pushing out of his throat and into Seunghyub’s mouth in a tiny sound. Seunghyub had been telegraphing all of his moves for Hun’s benefit, but Hun hadn’t expected Seunghyub to be so soft with him, not like this. His hand, which had been tracing along Hun’s spine, changes course and sweeps over Hun’s shoulder and down his chest, stopping with light fingertips over Hun’s stomach. Hun can’t take it anymore, the confusion and distress mixing in the base of his spine. He needs to do something, needs to fall into the abyss of sleep and forget everything.

Shivering, Hun leans into Seunghyub, drops his mouth open and slides his tongue along Seunghyub’s to entice a fervor in him. It doesn’t work though. He’s swept up in Seunghyub’s flow, drifting slow and deep as Seunghyub’s mouth works against his. Seunghyub dictates the pace with a hand at Hun’s jaw, staying composed and steady and infuriatingly unhurried even as his other hand rests on Hun’s waist, fingers lingering at the waistband. Hun is not okay with this.

Nervous energy courses through him and keeps him on edge about the whole situation he’s — albeit willingly — thrown himself into. It makes his fingers tremble and tangle in the fabric of Seunghyub’s shirt, makes him tense up, body vibrating with anxiety as he shifts forward, nearly balanced now on Seunghyub’s thighs. Hun needs to get this over with, needs to be able to sleep for longer than thirty minutes at a time. He needs to feel like himself again.

Impatience bubbles up and spills over into the way Hun’s hands come up against Seunghyub’s chest as he swipes his tongue along the seam of Seunghyub’s lips. Seunghyub’s mouth is hot, his skin burning beneath Hun’s palms. Even with the tinge of fear lurking at the edges, Hun is hardening in his pants, desperate. Trying to use this to his advantage, he seats himself fully in Seunghyub’s lap and rolls his hips forward, brushing up against Seunghyub’s torso, against front of his pants. But he’s rebuffed again, Seunghyub’s hands coming up to his waist and steadying him. Hun stills.

Even this does nothing to change Seunghyub’s pace, his tongue meeting Hun’s and working him back down, taking his time. Hun knows he more or less goaded Seunghyub into the frantic rhythm last time but he had no reason to believe it wouldn’t work this time too. Either Seunghyub caught on or he’s doing this to make Hun lose his mind.

Hoping to ignite a fire, Hun’s hands come up to Seunghyub’s shirt and he begins to undo the buttons hastily. He doesn’t get more than a single button undone before Seunghyub’s hands grab his, Hun’s hands encased as they're guided away. The message is gentle but clear.

When Hun pulls back, they separate with a wet noise that sounds far too loud in the silence of the room.

“Come on,” Hun huffs, prickly and restless. “I’m ready, just go.”

Seunghyub’s eyes search his. “It doesn’t seem that way to me.”

Hun scowls. Though he doesn’t know how, Seunghyub seems to know exactly what Hun’s doing. He’s never heard of a demon as chivalrous as Seunghyub, much less an incubus like him. It should be a good thing, and really it _is_ , but Hun is riled up all on his own and he needs Seunghyub to stop acting like a gentleman if he’s going to get any sleep tonight.

“We’ll get there, don’t worry,” Seunghyub says, pressing a kiss into the corner of Hun’s mouth.

He moves his way across Hun’s cheek, leaving behind a trail of open mouthed kisses across Hun’s skin, his hands cradling Hun’s face in a way that seems almost reverent.

“You know,” he starts, voice slightly muffled from where it’s buried against Hun’s neck. “We don’t have to actually go all the way for this to work.”

Hun’s eyes, which seem to have slipped closed at some point during Seunghyub’s ministrations, blink open at that.

“What do you mean?”

“Just that as long as you come, it counts.”

“What about you?” The words are out of his mouth before he has a chance to process them and he wants to take them back immediately, snatch them out of the air and shove them back down his throat.

Seunghyub pulls his face away, lips finally breaking from Hun’s skin. He levels a stare at Hun, his eyes dark and filled with a sense of mischief that senses a shock of want running through Hun, shaking him down to his core.

“It’s not strictly necessary. But it’s a nice bonus.” His grin knocks the air right out of Hun’s lungs.

Breathing doesn’t matter anyway though, as in the next moment, Seunghyub’s mouth lands on his once more. He works Hun open exceedingly slowly while his hands run down Hun’s back. Hun shivers but it does the trick; some of the edge is taken off as every action whittles away the threat of before. He relaxes into Seunghyub, following him without question.

It seems like only a short time before Seunghyub leans back and breaks the kiss but when he does, the time that’s passed is belied by the way Hun’s lips tingle. There must be something about his expression that tickles Seunghyub because he stifles a laugh and presses a final kiss, lightning quick, to Hun’s lips. Then, as tenderly as holding a newborn kitten, he briefly cradles Hun’s face in one of his hands, his thumb stroking across Hun’s cheek before both hands are on Hun’s shoulders.

Seunghyub maneuvers Hun, turning him around until he is nestled between Seunghyub’s legs, his back pressed to Seunghyub’s chest. Hot breath hits the back of Hun’s neck and makes its way down, flowing down his spine, until lips land on the juncture of his shoulder. Seunghyub’s hands come around, slipping over Hun’s hips and dipping into the space between his thighs. Hun sucks in a breath, his hands digging into the couch cushions uselessly. Seunghyub’s fingers trace the insides of his legs, running along the inner seam of his joggers and back up, in the dip of his pelvis, bypassing the place Hun most wants to be touched.

Without thinking, Hun pushes his hips up, trying to meet Seunghyub’s hands before he realizes what he’s doing. His hands immediately cover his face, a distressed noise leaving his lips as Seunghyub puffs out a quiet laugh behind him. The next time Seunghyub runs his hands down, one covers Hun’s dick and cups it in his palm, massaging gently as Hun grows in his hand. Hun takes in a deep breath and lets his head fall back to rest against Seunghyub’s shoulder. He’s surrounded, all of Seunghyub wrapped around him, covering him like a blanket. Hun sinks into Seunghyub and lets him do as he wishes, no longer plagued by a sense of fear for what Seunghyub may do.

It might be stupid to now fully entrust himself to a demon, to put faith in the idea that said demon won’t cause him any undue harm, but for whatever reason, Hun believes that Seunghyub truly doesn’t want to hurt him. Trick or not, he’s already surrendered.

Seunghyub takes it slow, slower than Hun would have thought he’d be comfortable with just a few days ago. But after his reassurance, it’s like Hun’s hesitance has fled, faded like a picture in the sun. Seunghyub’s hand is warm when it slips inside and holds him, his fingers soft as he strokes Hun. Hun can feel him everywhere, at his back, around his legs, across his stomach. It’s almost overwhelming but Hun can’t bring himself to mind it when Seunghyub noses at the space behind Hun’s ear, his lips pressing against the sensitive skin there.

Something about it is languid, Seunghyub’s hands pumping slowly as Hun rests against him, body relaxing. He couldn’t fall asleep, not like this, not with Seunghyub’s fingers wrapped around him, but neither of them are in a hurry, Seunghyub’s hand moving fast enough to please but not so slow as to tease. Hun’s own hands rest against Seunghyub’s thighs, the muscles firm even through his clothes.

The change isn’t abrupt. It happens almost without Hun noticing; Seunghyub’s body incrementally grows hotter against his until he’s burning Hun from the outside in. He doesn’t change his pace but his touch is like an aphrodisiac, every breath that hits the back of Hun’s neck stoking the fire. His voice is at Hun’s ear, chiming softly.

“Can I try something?”

“Whatever you want,” Hun tells him brokenly, pushing up into the circle of his fingers.

The hand that isn’t on Hun’s dick travels from Hun’s hip to rest on his stomach, palm flat and fingers splayed wide. He pushes down gently, keeping Hun tucked up right against him as his hips roll upward. Hun gasps and his nails dig into Seunghyub’s skin. He hadn’t been aware of Seunghyub’s arousal, growing hot and hard against him as Seunghyub tended to him. But this throws everything into stark relief, Seunghyub’s hands and hips moving in a rounded rhythm with Hun caught, helpless, in the middle. He pushes up into Seunghyub’s hand, rocks back against the heat he’s practically sitting on.

They’ve fucked before, properly, and yet the mere suggestion of it here, thinly restrained and barely veiled, is different.

Seunghyub grinds up against Hun, his hand keeping Hun in place. Hun reaches back, his fingers curling into the hem of Seunghyub’s shirt to anchor himself. The angle is awkward but it does the trick; when Seunghyub’s hips meet him the next time, Hun has enough leverage to rock down against him more firmly, circling his hips as Seunghyub presses against him through their clothes.

After all Seunghyub has done to him, something this simple shouldn’t affect Hun so much, but affect him it does. A heat so vast it’s nearly suffocating consumes him, floods through his veins and out of his fingertips as he grabs onto Seunghyub, hip bones biting into his palms. There’s a slight pain to it, like an afterthought, and Hun holds on tighter to feel the burn. His bare feet are skimming the ground, so far back on Seunghyub’s lap as he is, and he pushes against the floor on tiptoe, his feet sliding against the smooth wood. They come up fully off the floor when Seunghyub rolls his hips so hard that he raises both of them from the couch and Hun shudders, feels Seunghyub hot all around him.

Seunghyub’s hand presses down against Hun’s stomach more firmly and his lips meet Hun’s nape for a tender moment before they part. His teeth scrape across Hun’s skin, over the ridges of his spine. Then he bites down. He catches the bones between his teeth, biting down on Hun’s scruff like a dog asserting dominance. Desire boiling in his stomach, Hun submits.

His head tips forward, skin pulling under Seunghyub’s teeth, and a shiver runs through him. He groans, forgetting himself.

“Oh, g—”

A flash of cold panic cuts through the heat, causing Hun to jolt to a stop as fear shatters up his spine, freezing the fire inside him. The word sticks in his throat and he chokes on it, having just enough presence of mind to cut himself off before it can leave his lips in its entirety.

He didn’t say it, not quite — but he almost had. It’s as close as he’s ever come to tossing away his life.

Seunghyub’s hand comes up in an instant and covers Hun’s mouth, fingertips dimpling into his cheek and curling beneath his jaw. Though he knows it’s not, the gesture seems possessive and Hun’s head falls back against Seunghyub’s shoulder, his body now restrained within Seunghyub’s hands. The rush of adrenaline at his near fatal slip up pumps through Hun and blisters low in his stomach, just beneath Seunghyub’s burning palm.

It should be frightening, especially after almost involuntarily handing himself over to the devil, but any terror Hun _should_ feel is eaten up by a devastating wave of arousal.

The motion of Seunghyub’s hips doesn’t falter and Hun is glad for it and for the distraction it provides as he clutches at Seunghyub. He pants against Seunghyub’s palm, one hand coming up to grip Seunghyub’s wrist, not to pull the hand away, but to secure himself. The fire is back, with Seunghyub burning up around him.

Hun’s world tilts sideways as Seunghyub lays them back against the couch, keeping Hun’s back pressed tightly against his chest. He’s laid out flat above Seunghyub, joined at the hips, his head tucked beneath Seunghyub’s chin. It feels as though every point of their bodies are connected, locked into place through sheer force of nature. Seunghyub grinds up against Hun’s weight, letting gravity do its work to keep Hun solid above him. Hun digs his heels into the cushions and bears down on Seunghyub, muscles tensing as a moan rises up his sternum from the base of his spine.

It spills from his mouth right into Seunghyub’s palm, the sounds muffled by his fist. Seunghyub’s skin grows slick against his lips.

With all of the confusion of emotion, the whiplash between terror and desire, Hun comes apart at the seams easily, all his pieces fragmenting at Seunghyub’s fingertips. Seunghyub strokes him fast and loose, the snap of his wrist almost obscene. He does some sort of twist, his palm sliding over Hun, fingers squeezing around him in such a way that it has Hun’s hip surging up to meet him.

All it takes is one more push of Seunghyub’s hips, the burning warmth searing into Hun’s flesh, and Hun’s body is pulled taut, his muscles straining and his mouth open beneath Seunghyub’s palm. A sort of whine leaks from his lips as he shudders and falls back against Seunghyub’s chest, a tell dark patch blooming across the front of his pants.

Seunghyub’s hand falls away from his mouth, dragging a trail of saliva across Hun’s cheek as he cups Hun’s jaw and tilts his head to the side. Their lips meet, messy and unhurried. Hun breaks away just long enough to roll over on top of Seunghyub, the motion clumsy, stumbling. His chest is pressed against Seunghyub’s, all his limbs going limp as Seunghyub’s drags his head down to reconnect their mouths. Seunghyub’s fingers lace through his hair and press soothingly into Hun’s scalp. Energy exhausted, Hun’s consciousness flits in and out as Seunghyub’s tongue caresses his.

When it finally gets to be too much for Hun to keep alert, he pulls back just far enough to let his forehead thump against Seunghyub’s clavicle, thoroughly spent. He falls into limbo with Seunghyub’s hand stroking his hair, the rhythm light and measured. Through the haze, a single thought cuts into his head.

“You didn’t come,” he says to Seunghyub, barely able to lift his head to look at him. His voice slurs a little, the words slipping on his sleep slack tongue.

Seunghyub chuckles. “No,” he says. “I didn’t.”

As if sensing Hun’s oncoming protest, he continues, “don’t worry about it. This was all for you, remember?”

Hun protests anyway with as much force as he can muster. Given the circumstances, it’s not very convincing.

“But that’s not fair to you.”

“Hun.” Seunghyub’s voice carries both exasperation and fondness. “I told you before, I don’t need to come. I already got my energy from you.”

“But —”

“But you can repay me later if you really want to.”

Contented with the promise, Hun hums his ascent and accepts the kiss Seunghyub offers him. His eyes creep closed, almost without his awareness, a rush of drowsiness knocking into him. Dimly, he suspects that Seunghyub has something to do with it, but he has no time to dwell on that thought before all thought slips away entirely as he finally falls asleep.

Maybe he can sense some movement, a shift, a gentle rocking, a plush and enveloping warmth as Seunghyub deposits him in bed and tucks him away beneath the comforter. Maybe his bangs are swept from his forehead and replaced with a chaste kiss. Maybe the bed sinks as Seunghyub sits beside him, silent and watchful, a protection against Night Mares. Or maybe it’s all a dream.

-

Senghyub has proven on multiple occasions now that whatever mystical demon sex powers he has are working. That, and that he’s not going to go back on his unspoken word and push Hun past his limits. It does wonders for loosening Hun’s reservations and building up his trust. There’s still an air of hesitancy in Hun’s behavior, still a lingering fear of forgetting himself in the heat of the moment. But he hasn’t had a slip up since that first time and he’s not about to have one now. If he could handle himself before, then he can handle anything.

Still, Hun’s lived with the insomnia for so long that he’s fallen into a routine of ignoring the alternatives in favor of passing out when his body can’t take it any longer. Such a habit comes from years of nothing else working, so he’s really not to blame. It’s not like he’s trying to back out of their deal — Seunghyub has shown just how useful he can be — but Seunghyub has only ever helped when Hun can’t take it anymore. Is that on Hun? Yes, but he really doesn’t know if it’s within Seunghyub’s ability to lure him to sleep unless Hun’s already on the verge of shutting down.

Once Hun lowered his defences and allowed himself to accept Seunghyub’s help fully, Seunghyub has been careful not to upset the balance. Hun had thought that Seunghyub would take advantage of Hun’s newfound compliance and use that as an excuse to toe the line. But no, he’s still letting Hun define the boundaries. Even with his doubts melting away, Hun is thankful for the small mercy.

However, that still leaves him with the ongoing problem of trying to get the fuck to sleep. Hun takes it upon himself to find out how to fix that one day, only a day without sleep after he finally gave in the last time. Progress.

He finds Seunghyub messing around on his computer, clicking away haphazardly as he amuses himself with the unfamiliar technology. Seunghyub looks up with Hun perches above him, distant enough to not be touching, close enough to be blatantly demanding attention. Bringing his full focus, Seunghyub tilts his head back and looks up at Hun.

“What’s up?”

“I’m bored. I want to sleep,” Hun grumbles, finding that it’s true.

He never naps or sleeps in just because anymore, he hasn’t been able to for a long time. With a sudden intensity, Hun misses it.

“Oh.”

Seunghyub blinks at him and Hun figures that settles that: Seunghyub can’t help him. He’s about to pull away when —

“Do you want help with that?”

Hun looks at him curiously. “You can do that? Even when I’m not tired?”

“Yeah? It’s not that much different.”

Letting out a sigh, Hun spins the chair until around so that he and Seunghyub are face to face. Hestating for only a second, he dives straight in and decides to ask outright.

“Okay, how does it work?”

“Basically exactly the same,” Seunghyub says. His hands come up to wind around Hun’s waist and Hun finds that he doesn’t mind it much. What a difference time makes. “I’ll need to take more energy from you so it would be more intense, but there’s no side effects and it’ll get you to sleep.”

The prospect is intriguing and almost...alluring? Hun makes an interested noise, his eyes tracing across Seunghyub’s face and lingering on his mouth. Something in Hun’s brain is tugging at him, prodding him to jump on the offer. He idly considers following through literally, but he doesn’t have to make that decision. Seunghyub guides him forward until Hun is standing between his knees.

“You need to learn to ask more clearly.”

His face is smug, teasing as he meets Hun’s eye. Hun huffs and yanks at Seunghyub’s arm, signaling him to stand up. Seunghyub follows him diligently, clearly humoring Hun as he trails along, dragged by the wrist. A few weeks ago, the mere idea of manhandling a demon was unthinkable and now Hun has skipped straight ahead to just doing it, no questions asked. His own feet tap across the floor, the sound dying away when they reach the rug stretched across the floor of Hun’s room.

Hun drops Seunghyub’s wrist and flops on the bed, arms thrown out and fingers splayed overtop the comforter, the downy blanket giving way beneath the weight of his body, slowly sinking him as he lays still. When Seunghyub doesn’t make a move to follow him, Hun sits up, arms behind him to prop himself up as he blinks impatiently at him. It appears that Seunghyub is in one of his contrary moods because he stands beside the bed unmoving, a clear air of expectancy floating about him.

Seeing that he’s not about to move, Hun reaches out and takes Seunghyub’s hand in his grasp and gives his arm a tug, but Seunghyub is tethered to the floor, an immovable force. With a grunt, Hun crawls from the bed and moves to stand in front of Seunghyub. A brief staredown commences where Hun tries to communicate with his glower alone that Seunghyub should get on the bed which is, of course, resolutely ignored. Seunghyub meets Hun’s stare with a temperate, infuriating smile.

But he goes down smoothly when Hun sidesteps him and pushes at his shoulders, forcing him to sit. His hands encircle Hun’s waist, bringing Hun closer, Hun’s knees bumping against the mattress. There’s a quiet moment where Seunghyub just stares at him, until Hun scowls and raps a knuckle against Seunghyub’s chest.

“Are you going to be like this everytime?” He grumbles, pushing Seunghyub’s head to the side to try and break his gaze.

“Maybe.” Seunghyub grins. “Why? You don’t like it?”

Hun’s stare is so deadpan it could petrify wood. “Shut up.”

At that, he knocks Seunghyub back onto the mattress. Feeling vindictive, Hun crawls over him, settling his weight on top of Seunghyub’s thighs, leaving Seunghyub’s legs dangling over the side of the bed. Launching straight into his modus operandi, Hun bends forward until his mouth can connect with Seunghyub’s his hands already drifting down to the hem of Seunghyub’s shirt. Seunghyub’s hands stay settled at Hun’s waist and he somehow controls the flow of the kiss despite laying pliant beneath Hun.

Steadily, since learning the terms of the contract, Hun has been growing bolder. The fear has gradually faded into a buzz in the back of his mind, not gone, but significantly lessened. Maybe he shouldn’t be pushing his luck with a demon of all creatures, but he’s been enjoying being demanding and selfish, and Seunghyub has let him get away with it quite happily. It is, perhaps, feeding into Hun’s ego a bit too much but it’s not like he’s about to stop now.

Seunghyub’s thumbs massage his sides, rub up and down gently as he kisses Hun. Through his clothes, the touch shouldn’t feel as warm as it does, searing straight through the fabric and into his skin. Hun wants Seunghyub’s hands elsewhere.

Impatient as ever, he grabs one of Seunghyub’s wrists and squeezes. When Seunghyub pulls back to hit him with a look that somehow manages to channel both inquisition and self satisfaction, Hun fixes him with a flat stare. In complete opposition to Hun, Seunghyub waits patiently, seemingly content to do nothing more than lay back and watch Hun simmer. Irritation prickles at the back of Hun’s neck, not as Seunghyub exactly, but at what Seunghyub wants from him.

 _You need to learn to ask more clearly_ , Seunghyub had said.

With their eyes locked, the words float through Hun’s brain as an embarrassed heat seeps down his throat. Forgoing words, Hun shifts his hold on Seunghyub’s wrist. He wants to bring Seunghyub’s hand around, to press it to the front of his pants, but he doesn’t get that far; Seunghyub doesn’t budge, his arm steady as a rock. Hun’s eyes flit back up to meet Seunghyub’s, searching his gaze.

 _What do you want?_ His eyes are asking. _Tell me._

By nature, Hun is fairly reticent: his words are clipped, his sentences short rather than meandering. He stays mostly quiet, not for lack of things to say, but for lack of reason to say them. Hun is a private kind of person, no matter how honest his thoughts may be. So when faced with a creature like Seunghyub, it means a challenge awaits him, for even if his body can say it, he doesn’t let the truth drip from his mouth. But he has to now.

Hun takes a steadying breath and squeezes his eyes shut, unable to look at Seunghyub as a flush bleeds red and warm across his cheeks. His voice is hushed as he says the words Seunghyub wants to hear.

“Touch me.”

The reward is immediate. Seunghyub dips his hand into Hun’s pants, his fingers wrapping around Hun.

“Good job,” he praises, honey drizzled across his tongue.

Hun is caught, the words sending a pleased shiver easing down his spine. Seunghyub pumps him slowly, Hun’s dick growing in his hand as Hun slides his palms down Seunghyub’s chest, busying himself with undoing the buttons on Seunghyub’s stupid, fancy shirt. He gets it all the way open and pushes it from Seunghyub’s torso until it hangs from his shoulders, his chest bared.

Despite what should be an advantageous position, Hun has the niggling sense that he’s put on display for Seunghyub instead, as the demon's eyes sweep down his body. He pauses, leering at his own hand shoved inside Hun’s pants. Hun sweeps his hand down Seunghyub’s chest once more, just to let his nails catch on the skin in a pithy grab for the higher ground. He sinks a little lower and ignores the rushing in his ears as the tide rushes to pull him under. Seunghyub doesn’t ignore it, not with the way his hand palms over Hun’s dick, but it doesn’t up the ante, doesn’t get Seunghyub all hot and heavy like Hun wants him.

It’s not aggravating — it’s embarrassing. Even though they’ve done this as many times as they have, Hun still likes it when they clash, when all their edges don’t line up perfectly. To combat the flush rapidly cascading down his chest, Hun pushes aside the clumsiness, his voice taking on a hint of arrogance as he says, “why do you move so slow?”

His taunt has the desired effect: Seunghyub’s eyes flicker up to his face, a flash of something like veneration crashing behind his gaze before his hand picks up speed. Hun’s head falls forward, chin tucked into his chest as he cants his hips into Seunghyub’s grip. The heat of Seunghyub’s hand is good but it’s not enough and it’s not long until his pace slows again, sliding over Hun in a leisurely ache that has Hun leaning down to join their mouths.

Seunghyub’s hand nearly stills completely as he thumbs over the head and Hun’s forehead meets Seunghyub’s chest with a dull slap of skin. A groan leaves Hun’s lips, the sound muffled by Seunghyub’s rib cage.

“Hurry up,” he growls, fixing Seunghyub with a look he hopes is commanding but which probably comes off more as desperate.

He’s met with a placid smile, one he knows is full of purposeful misunderstanding. It drags a frustrated groan from Hun’s throat and he grabs Seunghyub’s hand from his pants, directing it back until Seunghyub’s fingertips nudge against his hole. Seunghyub decides to take the hint this time, obeying with a knowing smile as he presses a finger inside.

They play this back and forth, Seunghyub’s fingers working inside him, Hun’s teeth and hands on Seunghyub, nipping and pulling when he begins to slow. It’s a hollow show of dominance that crumbles beneath him, collapsing with a suffocating cloud of dust. Hun valiantly keeps the volley aloft, fighting against Seunghyub’s teasing hands to keep it from stopping. It mostly works — for a little while at least. He’s sidestepping saying what he actually _wants_ , too embarrassed to say it out loud and hoping that Seunghyub won’t notice that little detail.

He does.

Seunghyub has three fingers inside Hun and he stops, following smoothly with the motion when Hun tries to push back on them. His teeth close around Seunghyub’s shoulder, the nip turning into a proper bite when Seunghyub pulls back again. Hun moves down against Seunghyub’s hand ineffectually, unable to get the traction he’s looking for no matter how hard he tries, the friction eluding him, stolen away by Seunghyub.

With a desperate whining noise akin to a keen, Hun lays himself flat against Seunghyub, a labored pant working its way up his throat. His face takes its place back at Seunghyub’s neck, his body limp and shivery.

“Seunghyub,” he moans brokenly, his face hot. “Please. I can’t take it anymore.” When he looks up, his throat quivers, a pulse of vulnerability reverberating through him. “I want it now.”

Seunghyub heeds his honesty.

In a flurry, his hands are on Hun and the world flips upside down. Hun’s back hits the mattress and he’s covered with Seunghyub’s weight, a mouth against his, heat flowing into Hun’s body like a furnace has been lit beneath his skin. The calm aura that had surrounded Seunghyub prior dispels completely, dissolved into the air as his hands run down Hun’s body, divesting Hun of his clothing. Seunghyub pulls back just enough off Hun in order to rid himself of his clothes, gone in the blink of an eye as he returns his body to Hun’s. Fire blazes a simmering trail from Hun’s head to his feet.

It doesn’t matter where Seunghyub’s hands touch him as everything erupts in a torrent of heat, swallowing Hun whole. He shivers beneath Seunghyub, trembling fingers clutching Seunghyub’s shoulders while he fights not to drown. Hun is being swept under the current, carried into the dark depth by Seunghyub’s mouth against his, their lips sliding together. Seunghyub’s tongue strokes over his, coaxed Hun into his mouth. Hun moans, a helpless mess beneath Seunghyub.

That scent is pouring off Seunghyub again, the one he’d first smelled right after Seunghyub had been summoned. It’s heady and cloying, making Hun drunk on it, pressing him into the bed the way Seunghyub had pressed him into the wall at their first meeting. He wants to touch Seunghyub, wants to have Seunghyub’s hands all over him, burning him from the inside out. Hun pants, his back arching off the bed, and presses himself up against Seunghyub as close as he can. His head swims, a wave of dizzying arousal crashing over him and making him hard with need. He’s felt this before.

“What are you doing to me?”

Even through the intoxicating haze, he can tell that something is different this time. Every place that Seunghyub touches is scorching, lit up and sparking beneath his skin. Seunghyub buries his face in Hun’s neck, a cascading trail of kisses flowing down the column with a pleasurable tingle. The voice at his ear stretches deep, rumbling up from the depths to tremble in his ear.

“Making sure you feel it.”

Hun’s eyes roll back and he tosses his head to the side, flames tripping up his spine. Seunghyub’s hands are barely on him, flitting over Hun in fleeting, teasing touches that leave a prickling ache racing through his body. When Seunghyub finally wraps a hand around him, Hun can’t hold back the cry from ripping from his throat.

It takes hardly any time at all; Hun is leaking all over his stomach, a hand fitted in Seunghyub’s hair as Seunghyub pumps him in measured pulls. He can’t take it anymore.

“I can’t,” he chokes out. He pulls Seunghyub to him, wanting to devour or be devoured, kissing him like a man starved as he pushes up into Seunghyub’s hand. “It’s too slow, it’s driving me crazy.”

Hun clutches at Seunghyub, desperation taut in his muscles while he pants against Seunghyub’s mouth. Seunghyub is merciful. He briefly traps Hun’s bottom lip between his teeth and gives a gentle tug that has Hun’s toes curling. Then Seunghyub pulls away, sits back and turns Hun over onto his front, his hands smoothing down Hun’s back. A finger slips inside Hun, still loose, soon after joined by another.

“I wanted to go slow so it’s not as shocking,” Seunghyub says as he stretches Hun a little more. His voice is even and baffling casual for someone with three fingers buried deep in another man. “If it’s drawn out, I can take energy at a steady pace without overwhelming you. But if you want it all at once, I can do that.”

Hun whimpers when Seunghyub crooks his fingers, heat flooding his face as he realizes how pathetically desperate he’s being.

Seunghyub continues, his fingers never stopping. “I told you before that it’s going to be more intense. You need to tell me if it’s too much.”

Trying to take back some of his dignity, Hun scoffs.

“You’re not going to break me,” he asserts, turning his head to meet Seunghyub’s eye, challenging.

Seunghyub pulls his fingers out and grins, lining himself up. His eyes glint, alluring and dangerous, and the aura of _demon_ rises to the surface and permeates his very being to wrap around him, dark. Inviting.

“That’s what you think.”

A spike of arousal rockets through Hun at that, quaking through his bones all the way down to the tips of his toes. And then Seunghyub pushes in.

The heat from before floods into Hun, no longer sinking in through his skin but striking through his veins and coating the inside of his stomach. Such a fire is subdermal, roaring inside his head, and Hun scrambles to hold on for dear life, fingers ripping into the sheets with a white knuckle grip. Whatever Seunghyub had been doing before, Hun feels it tenfold now as Seunghyub rocks into him, filling Hun to the brim.

Unlike before, there’s nothing unhurried about Seunghyub’s pace; he pounds into Hun hard and fast, his hands heavy around Hun’s hips. He holds Hun in place, keeping him from sliding forward with each thrust. Hun pushes his face into the sheets, unable to do anything but hang on. It’s exactly what Hun wanted and it’s so much, the friction bringing him to the edge almost immediately. He angles back against Seunghyub and shakes, his whole body constricting as he rides on the brink of orgasm.

“I’m close,” he keens.

But rather than driving into him harder, Seunghyub clicks his tongue and slows his pace, hitching Hun’s hips up and pulling himself close. His chest is solid against Hun’s back, his mouth at Hun’s ear.

“That won’t do,” he admonishes, his teeth closing around the lobe.

It sends a shudder through Hun but it’s too late: Hun is suspended at the precipice, maddeningly winding back down. He pants raggedly into the sheets and relaxes, focuses on Seunghyub’s all encompassing heat instead of the way his dick drags against the mattress with every slow thrust of Seunghyub’s hips.

Once Hun has been appropriately brought back down to earth, Seunghyub has no reservations about picking up the pace and giving it to Hun with everything he’s got. He hits that spot inside Hun, tearing into him with a scorching heat. Hun moans, his cheek pressed into the mattress, just taking it as Seunghyub thrusts into him again and again. That familiar build up of pleasure climbs up his core in record time, leaving his throat tight and his legs trembling.

This time, Hun doesn’t say a word before Seunghyub changes the angle of his hips, rocking shallowly as if to tease. A broken moan falls from Hun’s lips, a hand scrambling back to grab at Seunghyub’s wrist. The lack of proper movement brings Hun down in a jerky, off kilter spiral. His whole body is humming, a sluggish throb working outward from his grin and ending with a clang inside his head, rattling hollowly.

He thinks he hears Seunghyub say, “can’t rush this”, but the blood is crashing in his ears, his body too keyed up from everything to catch focus on any one thing. Hun unwinds, bit by bit, until the ache between his legs eases into something less painful. He’s the one to give the go sign this time by pushing up onto his elbow and knees so that he can properly rock back against Seunghyub. They start up a frenzied rhythm; Seunghyub is smooth and steady but Hun can feel the frantic energy of his own movements, desperate, seeking release.

Hun almost gets there, so close it practically wracks his body. WIth a concentrated circle of his hips, Hun pushes back onto Seunghyub, trying to ride through the pleasure. Seunghyub’s hand is on his suddenly and his grip is tight as his fingers curl around, cutting off the orgasm. Though Hun tries to grind back against him anyway, Seunghyub’s other arm is clamped around his waist now, preventing Hun from moving. Seunghyub curves over him, his lips scattering a burning line up Hun’s spine as he goes.

Once he’s spread himself flat across Hun’s back, he noses at the skin behind Hun’s ear, his voice fervid as he says, “you aren’t coming until I say so.”

Hun’s dick throbs at that, a heavy burning weight, and if he weren’t so far gone, he may be embarrassed by how readily he wants it. As it is, all he can think is that, with his hand around his dick, there’s no way Seunghyub didn’t feel Hun’s reaction to his words. The feeling makes Hun dizzy and he drops his head against the mattress, a helpless moan buried in the sheets.

He wants Seunghyub so badly.

How weak he feels, coupled with Seunghyub’s weight on him, leads Hun’s arms and legs to shake and he’s barely able to hold himself up.

“I need to come,” he rasps, throat dry. “Please.”

Like a leaky faucet, a litany of pleas begin to pour carelessly from his lips without conscious thought. He’s unable to stop, every word nearly coming out a moan for how much he wants it. Seunghyub kisses his neck fondly and pulls away, slipping out of Hun completely. Hun groans, collapsing forward onto the bed, and allows himself to be rolled over. When Seunghyub settles himself between Hun’s knees, Hun’s arm circle around his neck, keeping him close.

There’s no strength behind the motion but Seunghyub follows him down until they lay flush against each other. He kisses Hun softly, seemingly at odds with the rough press of his hips before. With one last meet of lips, Seunghyub positions himself and pushes back in. The slide is so wet it’s almost obscene.

Seunghyub doesn’t hold back this time, thrusting into Hun even deeper than before. The bed frame rattles against the wall in a thunderous crack as he fucks into Hun, working him back up in no time at all. He keeps going and going until Hun is practically screaming from the pleasure of it, his throat raw, body coiled tight with intensity. Hun feels properly on fire, the blood boiling in his veins as he hangs onto Seunghyub, unable to do much more than pant against Seunghyub’s ear as he drives into him.

He’s getting close, so close. Seunghyub licks a stripe up his chest, his neck, meets Hun’s lips and licks filthily into his mouth. From their chests pressed together, Hun doesn’t even have to hear the moans — he can feel them rumbling from Seunghyub’s chest into his and he gets light headed, knowing Seunghyub feels this way because of him. Seunghyub hits that point in him, deep, and Hun moans into his mouth, breaking away to cry out into the air as Seunghyub’s hips speed up.

“Seunghyub, ah —”

Hun moans, open mouthed, his hands clutching at Seunghyub’s shoulders like a lifeline.

“Seung — o-oh —”

Seunghyub keeps hitting that spot, the motion of his hips so smooth and dirty that Hun can hardly push up to meet him.

“Oh, oh god, Seunghyub.”

The orgasm rips through him, something powerful shivering in its wake, and he tosses his head back, fingers digging into Seunghyub’s skin as he comes. Seunghyub stills for a fraction of a second but then he’s thrusting into Hun even harder, fucking him through it, a growl rising from him and ringing through the air. The sound reverberates in Hun’s chest. He can only clutch at Seunghyub and ride through it.

Come splashes over his stomach, warm and sticky, and Seunghyub doesn’t stop. He pushes his face into Hun’s neck as he ruts deeply, hips never faltering as he growls, “you’re mine.”

Hun shivers again, moaning weakly. His body is sensitive, trickles of pain pricking along his skin, but somehow he can’t ask Seunghyub to stop. He doesn’t want him to. Hun feels depleted, but even so, he responds to Seunghyub inside him, fever stirring low in his belly once more.

And then all at once he feels it — pleasure spikes rapidly, sweeping through his body like a hurricane. For a brief moment, he has the absurd thought that his heart is going to give out. Seunghyub’s lips meet the juncture of Hun’s neck and he _sucks_ , hips rolling deep. Hun doesn’t have time to see it coming; he seizes up, hips stuttering against Seunghyub’s as he comes again, dry, a ragged moan tearing from his throat.

A moment later, he’s filled to the brim with the screaming heat of Seunghyub’s come. His bones feel like liquid beneath his skin and his arms fall away from Seunghyub’s neck, silence roaring in his ears. Hun is completely spent, sagging into the mattress, pinned down by Seunghyub’s weight. He doesn’t pass out immediately, but it’s a near thing, spots dotting behind his vision and mind gloriously blank while his head attempts to slow down to an appropriate pace.

When Seunghyub pulls out, his come leaks out of Hun in a viscous drip. Even if he wanted to, Hun can’t move. His limbs are filled with lead and his eyelids are heavy. Seunghyub lays beside him and wraps Hun in his arms. He murmurs something, a hand petting at Hun’s hair tenderly, but Hun can’t make out the words, his head muddled and full of shivering static. Making no effort to stay awake a moment longer, Hun’s eyes drag closed, his chest rising slowly.

He falls asleep with Seunghyub surrounding him, keeping him safe.

-

Hun loses an entire day to sleep.

He cracks his eyes open, the lids feeling puffy and uncooperative, and stares blankly at the ceiling. The world is fuzzy, coveted with a haze that doesn't clear even when he blinks slowly. Faint shadows skitter across the walls and Hun turns his head. The room is dim, light barely creeping in through the closed curtains. Hun can’t tell, but he thinks it seems like morning.

Seeking to confirm his suspicion, he throws a hand out and sweeps it over his bedside table, casting around for his phone. When his hand doesn’t come into contact with the divide, re reluctantly hauls himself into a sitting position. With a quick scan of the room, he spots it on his computer desk where it must have been discarded earlier. His eyes drop to the bed.

Beside him, Seunghyub lays quietly, his eyes shut peacefully. Hun’s gaze traced over his features, his sleep muddled brain struggling to form any coherent thought. Giving up on that and returning to the task at hand, Hun pushes the blankets off and swings his legs over the side of the bed, careful not to disturb Seunghyub.

Some time after he passed out, Seunghyub must have dressed him for he’s wearing a t-shirt and a pair of boxers. The floor is unforgivingly cold against his bare feet and the brisk air makes goosebumps erupt over his arms and legs. He stumbles as he walks to the desk, his body weak and swaying with every step he takes, shivering from his exposed skin. A muted, raw sort of stretch pulses with the movement. Weight sits low in his hips, heavy and dull. It’s there, aching behind every action but distant, a throb rather than a sting. Like an old bruise.

His muscles feel unwound, like he’s been uncoiled and lost his shape. Strung out. More than anything, he’s tired, his steps unsteady and trembling. A little baby deer taking its first venture out into the brave new world. When he reaches the desk, Hun allows himself a brief moment of respite, a hand braced against the wood for balance. He’s winded a bit, as if he’d sprinted the perimeter of his room a few times rather than walked a few meters from his bed. His phone waits for him unassumingly, the glass of the screen cool to the touch when he picks it up.

Phone in hand, Hun makes the short trek back to the bed, tempted to toss himself across the mattress if not for Seunghyub still sleeping soundly. Immediately, he shoves his legs under the covers, wriggling in until he’s swathed up to his chin. Then, finally, he clicks his phone on. It’s far too bright for his tired eyes, but once he adjusts to the glare, he takes in what’s on the screen: the time shows that, as Hun expected, it’s early in the morning. What gives him pause, however, is the date.

He frowns, sensing something off about it before he realizes what’s wrong — it was Tuesday when he’d gone to sleep, but his phone nonchalantly informs him that it’s Thursday. He’d slept, dead to the world, while time swirled past him, an entire day gone as if it had been scrubbed out, never existing in the first place. Hun’s brain processes this in fragments, his train of thought nearly running backwards for how slow it’s going. He’d slept for well over twenty four hours straight. Not that he’d doubted it in the moment — how could he have? — but Seunghyub truly wasn’t kidding when he’d said it would take more energy.

As if drawn by magnetic compulsion, Hun’s eyes stray from his darkened phone screen to Seunghyub. He startles, heart kicking frantically for a moment when he sees Seunghyub watching him silently. Seunghyub is far too quiet for his own good sometimes. Dropping his phone on the nightstand, Hun turns to him and settles back into the pillow.

“Did I wake you up?” he asks, calming his racing heart.

Seunghyub smiles and shakes his head, reaching out to brush his fingers through Hun’s hair. “I don’t need to sleep.”

“So, what — you just lie awake all night?” Hun eyes him with incredulity.

“Pretty much.”

“What do you do all night when I’m asleep then?” he asks with narrowed eyes.

Seunghyub grins, leering. “Watch you sleep.”

Hun hits Seunghyub’s shoulder, only half heartedly attempting to shove him off the bed. Seunghyub rolls over and throws an arm across his chest, tugging Hun into him. He doesn’t put up a fuss, feeling far too lazy and relaxed to fight it. With Seunghyub’s hand brushing down his back, Hun closes his eyes and listens to the sound of Seunghyub’s breathing. He thinks he dozes off for a few minutes, because when he comes back to himself, his eyes feel sticky again and his brain has returned to that dragging crawl. Hun makes a small, croaking noise and pulls back a hair, breaking the enclosure of warmth surrounding him.

His face feels flushed and sweaty, the telltale head of sleep settled into his skin and tending there pleasantly. Seunghyub doesn’t turn to him, doesn’t stop the gentle motion of his palm on Hun’s back like Hun expects him to, apparently content to lay in close knit silence. While Hun normal would too, he’s afraid the tranquility will lull him to sleep again and though he has a long way to go before he catches up to his debt, for once, he’s had enough sleep. When he pulls away fully and sits up, resting his back against the wall with a quiet grunt, Seunghyub speaks.

“Are you sore at all?”

Hun takes a moment to think about it. It doesn’t particularly hurt to move but he can’t deny the ache resting deeply in his muscles, the weakness overtaking his body.

Eventually he decides on, “a little.”

Seunghyub nods like he expected the answer. “I can’t get rid of the soreness, unfortunately,” he says, a hand coming up to rest on the back of Hun’s neck. His palm spans the entirety of it, fingers wrapping around to land on his pulse. It thrums steadily. “Otherwise I would’ve done it already.

His tone is apologetic but quickly switches to chiding, playfully accusatory. “If you’d let me go slow you wouldn’t hurt at all right now.”

Hun waves his admonishment away. “I’m fine, it’s not that bad. I’ll probably be back to normal tomorrow.”

Seunghyub hums and squeezes Hun’s nape lightly, his palm warm. Comforting. Hun lets his head thunk back against the wall, trapping Seunghyub’s hand against his skin. Fingertips drift, traveling up his neck to brush against the short hairs there. Hun sighs, his eyes closing, a gauzy exhaustion stretched across his bones.

The fatigue is familiar but the peace of mind is new; it’s been longer than he can remember where he’s sleepy but, sated from a good rest, he wants nothing more than to laze around rather than fall back asleep. He lets Seunghyub play with his hair, unmotivated to move him and with no reason to do so anyway. Besides, it’s kind of nice.

They don’t speak, ambient noise the only thing filtering through the room. Finding him by touch alone, Hun reaches out and curls his fingers into the hem of Seunghyub’s shirt. He doesn’t tug him close but Seunghyub comes anyway, his shoulder first bumping Hun’s before his head lands softly in the crook of Hun’s neck. His hand has slipped away to toy with Hun’s fingers, dragging Hun’s hand to rest against his own stomach. Hun keeps his eyes closed, lets Seunghyub do as he pleases.

Their fingers tangle together for a bit, Seunghyub’s thumb brushing over the back of Hun’s hand softly, while they lounge in a streak of sunlight. Seunghyub turns his head and his nose brushes against Hun’s neck, his breath lapping at Hun’s skin in warm waves. It’s another few beats before he moves again, nosing up along Hun’s neck, hip lips brushing lightly over the skin. It’s gentle, barely a whisper across his skin, and Seunghyub still has Hun’s hand in his, fingers dancing up to Hun’s wrist.

Even when he tilts his head higher, tongue sneaking out to lick lightly at the underside of Hun’s jaw, Hun relaxes further. There’s nothing to suggest that he wants anything more, only that he’s content with these tame, fleeting touches and nothing else. Something at that breaks through the easy daze, squirming around in Hun’s brain. It’s different — for some reason Seunghyub strikes Hun as strange, a seed of doubt beginning to sprout, watered by every tentative swipe of Seunghyub’s tongue, every brush of his lips.

As Seunghyub kisses his way along Hun’s jaw, dry and chaste, Hun tries to figure out what exactly is throwing him off. Then, it hits him: there’s an underlying sense of sweetness to every one of Seunghyub’s actions, something tender, caring, _intimate_ about it all. He’s been kind to Hun, of course, careful and gentle with him no matter the circumstances. But even when offhand, Seunghyb’s actions were for a reason — for pleasure, for energy, to fulfill their deal. The sweetness is new, bringing with it a curiosity that wasn’t there before.

It’s almost protective.

More than anything, Hun finds himself perplexed by this subtle shift in behavior, wonders what exactly could have brought this on. Eventually though, a gnawing in his stomach breaks the peaceful atmosphere. When his stomach gives a pitiful growl, Hun pats at Seunghyub’s arm and pulls himself out of the warm embrace to sit all the way up.

“I’m hungry,” he says by way of needless explanation.

Before he can turn and swing his legs off the bed, Seunghyub’s arms encircle him, keeping Hun in place. Seunghyub’s face goes straight to Hun’s neck again and his lips brush over the skin as he murmurs, “let me make you breakfast.”

Hun pauses, dubious. “Do you even know how to cook?”

Seunghyub’s arms are warm around him.

“No. But I’m sure I can figure it out.”

“You’ll probably just poison me.” Hun pushes Seunghyub’s arms away, meaning to get out of bed, but Seunghyub doesn’t budge, petulantly tugging Hun closer to him. Hun lets out a soft _oof_ as he’s squeezed and Seunghyub clings to him like a sticky nuisance.

“Oh my g—” He cuts himself off, switching the word out almost before the first sound can leave his mouth. “What’s up with you?” Hun asks with an incredulous laugh.

He looks down at Seunghyub, able to see no more than the crown of his head. The arms around him tighten just a smidge more.

“I’m just holding onto what’s mine. Is it wrong for me to want to keep you close?”

The words are said lightly but the smile drops of Hun’s face, all hunger swept away, forgotten.

“What?”

Seunghyub still, his arms going tense around Hun. It’s only a beat more before he pulls away slowly and his eyes lock on Hun’s face. When he speaks, his voice is quiet and chillingly even. It sets Hun’s teeth on edge for reasons he doesn’t understand. _Demon_ , his mind whispers.

“You don’t remember.”

It’s not a question. Hun’s blood runs cold, the primal instinct of pure, adrenaline powered fear piercing through him. Unbidden, his heart thunders nauseatingly, the pounding seeming to reverberate throughout his whole body and sending a wave of tremors through him. It’s as if a hatch falls shut in his throat, closing it off, stopping any air from getting into his lungs. The walls of his throat are stuck together, constricting, and Hun’s voice shakes as he manages to force out a wavering question.

“Remember what?”

Seunghyub’s expression falls and then shutters, the set of his shoulders going stiff as if, absurdly, he’s bracing himself. And yet, his eyes haven’t strayed from Hun’s for even the space of a blink, boring into him with an intensity that does nothing to soothe the stabbing fear in Hun’s gut.

“Do you remember the terms of our deal and the one condition that could override everything?”

Hun nods jerkily, an invasive numbness slithering up his arms.

“Last night,” Seunghyub says carefully. “You called me God.”

He pauses, looking weary as Hun’s brain screams in frantic silence. Hun feels himself shake his head, as if clearing away the lies like a fog. There’s no way that’s possible, it can’t be true. It _can’t_.

“I’m sorry.”

A disjointed memory rushes back in flashes; Seunghyub’s body against his, unbearable heat, mind numbing pleasure, a hand against his mouth. The word ‘god’ on his lips.

It feels like something his brain made up in some stint of delirium rather than a proper memory, but it must be true because he has the exhausting ache in his body to prove it. Which means that the frightening reality Seunghyub is telling him is true too. Hun’s vision blurs for a terrifying moment, dim and crackling, spotted with shifting static as he fights to pull mouthful after mouthful of air into his lungs. He’s lightheaded, a tingling paralysis roaring loud in his ears. Cold replaces the blood in his veins like ice crystals, rooting him to the spot, shivering and vulnerable.

Seunghyub reaches out like he wants to help, to comfort Hun, his hand withdrawing like a flinch when a tremor runs through Hun. He doesn’t touch him, intentionally — if reluctantly — keeping his space as Hun trips in a state of panicked disbelief.

The realization cute through the undulating haze of panic, that Seunghyub isn’t mad but is, in fact, trying to lessen the burden on Hun, something apologetic about his silence and still hands. It doesn’t matter much either way though, as Hun sways, dread coursing through him. The absurdity of having this conversation with a shirtless demon in his bed of all places hits him, slicing past the rotten terror.

 _But it’s not like the kitchen would be any better_ , he thinks with a touch of hysteria.

He fucked up. He fucked up in the most spectacularly stupid way possible and now he belongs to a demon, his life signed away, his soul no longer his own. There’s nothing he can do. As he states at his hands dead in his lap, he thinks, with a detached sort of disengagement, that he may actually pass out from the fear of it. There’s nothing he can do.

A crackling sets off in his ear, tinny and rapid, distracting. Hun wonders, apathetic, if he’s going to start crying. That would be quite ridiculous and befitting of someone like him who forfeited possession of his own soul to a demon. There’s _nothing_ he can do. The smog of panic bleeds away into the ether, leaving behind no stains, hardly even a trace it was ever there if not for the red crescents left pressed into his palms.

 _It doesn’t matter_ , he thinks.

None of it matters anymore. Whatever happens from now on, it’s out of his hands. It should be resignation weighing at his mind, but instead he feels a kind of weightlessness lifting him up, lightening a burden he hadn’t realized had gotten so heavy. To know that it doesn’t matter what he does anymore is freeing, almost. It’s done.

Hun no longer has to watch his every more, every word, terrified of slipping up. What use is it to live in further fear, knowing that he can’t change anything? No matter what he decides, it doesn’t make a difference. For better or for worse, what happens next is all up to Seunghyub. Hun is just along for the ride now, so he may as well take the front seat. He’s set for life, whatever that may mean — Hun may have started this mess but it’s Seunghyub’s problem now.

In a matter of seconds, Hun goes from full blown panic to a state of acceptance, all fear receding, quiet, to the back of his mind. He raises his eyes to meet Seunghyub’s unwavering gaze. Seunghyub is staring at Hun with a sense of restrained trepidation, as if waiting for Hun to fight, to flee in terror. Hun breathes out slowly.

“Okay,” is all he says.

Seunghyub blinks at him, clearly not expecting that, if he was expecting anything at all.

“Okay?”

He sounds sceptical and, beneath that, concerned. Oh, that’s sweet.

Hun nods matter of factly. “Okay. Now what?”

Seunghyub searches him, his eyes traveling across Hun’s with consternation masking fragile hope. Hun doesn’t flinch, sitting completely at east for maybe the first time since Seunghyub appeared in his array. Whatever Seunghyub finds in him, he must approve because he relaxes a fraction and nods.

“What do you want to know?”

Hun thinks for a moment, one glaring problem standing out to him, the same problem that caused him to seek help in the first place.

“What happens now? I’m — y-yours,” he says, tripping on the word. “But I first summoned you because I needed help with the Night Mares. So, what happens now?”

Seunghyub stares at him for a beat, face unreadable. “We’ll carry on as we have been. I’ll provide you with help sleeping when you ask for it and the only thing I ask for in return is a small bit of your energy, should you wish to provide it.”

“What about other demons?”

“What about them?”

A tendril of fear curls in Hun’s stomach, tiny but insistent. He can’t go back to the way things were before Seunghyub. Not now, not ever.

“Can they come back?”

Seunghyub’s eyes burn into his, a powerful force pinning Hun in place. Then, he speaks in a low voice.

“Not while I’m here.” Something flashes behind his eyes, something that should be dark and dangerous but seems more like a promise. “No one else can have you. Not while you’re my own.”

There’s an undercurrent of protection that’s colored with something possessive. It should be frightening, to have a demon lay claim to him so boldly. Instead, it makes Hun’s heart pound a little faster in anticipation. He swallows, wondering if Seunghyub can tell. Despite himself, a pang of arousal strikes through Hun at that, sitting low in his stomach and dissolving any lingering fear.

Hun wants to hear it again.

“Demons can’t bother me anymore? Never again?”

A knowing smirk tugs at the corners of Seunghyub’s lips slowly, his eyes boring into Hun with intent.

“No, they can’t.”

He pauses and Hun’s breath sticks in his throat, his heart fluttering as he waits. Seunghyub’s hand darts out and his fingers wrap around Hun’s wrist, touching him for the first time since he broke the news. His touch is hot, seeping into Hun’s skin and searing him from the inside out like he had just the day before.

Fighting down the sudden urge to wrench Seunghyub forward, Hun curls his hand into a fist, feels the stretch of the tendons in his wrist as they flex beneath Sunghyub’s fingertips. Seunghyub flicks his hand and Hun jolts forward, landing half in Seunghyub’s lap. His face is pressed close to Seunghyub’s bare chest but Seunghyub’s releases him and his hands come up, cupping at Hun’s jaw and tilting his head up.

There’s a roaring in Hun’s ears that matches the crash of his thundering heart as Seunghyub leans down, his lips brushing the shell of Hun’s ear. The roar dies away when Seunghyub speaks, soft, intimate, and so very, very deep.

“Because you’re _mine_.”

A shudder runs through Hun and he fists his hands in Seunghyub’s hair, surging up to meet his mouth. They crash together violently, an urgency unparalleled coursing through Hun’s body and drawing his hands down Seunghyub’s back, inciting him to lick deeply into Seunghyub’s mouth and find the fire burning him there. It flows into him from Seunghyub’s touch, sparking erratically beneath his skin in time with the frantic beating of his heart. He wants to feel Seunghyub, all of him.

Seunghyub makes an amused noise, something caught between a chuckle and a groan, and heat tickles at the base of Hun’s spine, sitting heavy there as his hands come up to clutch at the sides of Seunghyub’s face. It’s desperate and pathetic and Hun doesn’t care one bit. Seunghyub doesn’t encourage his eagerness but neither does he try to slow Hun down for once, seemingly satisfied with following Hun’s pace

They kiss, the consuming desperation in Hun fulfilled gradually with every swipe of Seunghyub’s tongue, every caress of his wandering hands. The comforting warmth from earlier sneaks back into Hun’s bones, slowing him down to a more languid simmer and convincing him to fall leisurely against Seunghyub. Their mouths part as Hun presses his cheek against Seunghyub’s collarbone and butts his head up lightly against Seunghyub’s chin. Seunghyub smoothes his hands down Hun’s back, the journey continuing past his hips and down to the waistline of his boxers.

He slides his hand insides, his thumb hooked out over the band and his palm warm against Hun’s backside. His other hand brushes through Hun’s hair, keeps Hun’s cheek pressed against his chest. A long moment passes where Hun does nothing but revel in the feeling of every place Seunghyub is pressed against him. He waits.

It doesn’t take long for Seunghyub to move; his palm glides against Hun’s skin as he drags the underwear down, over the curve of Hun’s ass, down, past his thighs, down, until it tangles around his knees. Releasing the rabris, Seunghyub’s hand roams up the inside of Hun’s leg until he can wrap his fingers around Hun. He pumps him slowly, careful against the dry catch of skin. His hand is soft, softer than it’s seemed before, and Hun sighs against his skin, a hand still stroking gently through his hair. It makes his body go lax and he slumps against Seunghyub completely, barely able to hold himself up on his news.

The gentle, steady rhythm does nothing to ease the languid drowsiness, instead relaxing Hun so much he wonders if he’s in danger of nodding off again. Seunghyub’s hand soothes over him, slick, lubricated with the precome beading from Hun. The motion is unhurried, his hand twining over Hun while Hun’s eyes flutter closed against his neck, leaving behind butterfly kisses.

When Seunghyub twists to the side and leans back against the wall, Hun allows himself to follow, all his weight resting on Seunghyub as Seunghyub continues to work him over. The exhaustion from the tryst the day before fully catches up to Hun now, making his muscles leaden and weak. He nuzzles into Seunghyub’s neck and breathes deeply, hot air puffing from between his open lips.

A sound rises slackly from his throat, a moan wrapped up in a sigh, when Seunghyub lines up their hips. His grip changes, his dick pressed along Hun’s, and his long fingers wrap around both of them, jerking them slowly. Hun groans, shifting his weight so he can press more firmly into Seunghyub’s hand. Seunghyub chuckles again and his hand is velvety around them, his length hot against Hun’s. He never speeds up, keeps his pace gradual, relaxed, as if he’s suspending Hun in a leisurely state of bliss. Despite his earlier frenzy, Hun is thankful for it.

There’s a sleepy sting behind his eyelids, the ache in him not quite a physical pain so much as a boneless consumption. Still, there’s a kind of soreness there where everything is sensitive and blown out, like the smoking husk of a firecracker. The twinge of a tweaked muscle, the throb of a broad, drawn out spasm are settled inside his bones, rattling deep and hollow through him like a gong of half forgotten memories.

More of the day prior comes back to him in rays with every stroke of Seunghyub’s hand over them, gentle flashes behind his eyes of moments previously lost to a sea of pleasure. A fire burns low in his belly, crackling pleasantly rather than raging like a roaring inferno. It’s warm and safe, Seunghyub’s free arm wrapped around his side and keeping him close. Hun wants to be self indulgent, wants to be pampered and protected by this powerful demon that holds Hun’s soul in his hands. He wants to pull as much pleasure for himself from Seunghyub as he possibly can and wrap himself up in it, keep it all for himself.

Seunghyub’s chest moves beneath Hun, makes him rise and fall with every breath like the calm undulation of the ocean lapping at the shore. It’s so different that the frantic, desperate rhythm of yesterday, so patient and comforting. Things change when your fate lies in the hands of another.

The thought procures a painful dart of desire that courses down Hun’s abdomen like a bullet, ripping past muscle and sinew and tissue, ending like a spark where Seunghyub’s hand is wrapped around him. He twitches, his body lightly convulsing, a strangled sound caught in his throat as he hangs onto Seunghyub. His fingertips dig into the bare skin, nails biting. Seunghyub’s hand slows and he turns his face towards Hun’s a sense of wonderment resting on his features.

His eyes flash and then his mouth captures Hun’s hungry and insistent. Seunghyub pushes up, rubbing against Hun in the circle of his hand, and a grow rumbles up from his throat. Hun can practically taste it, bitter and metallic, and both his hands come up to draw Seunghyub even closer.

“I want you,” Seunghyub breathes against his mouth, and the burn that had been merely tending grows, the words flint struck against Hun’s ribcage, creating a new spark that stokes the fire.

Hun gives a full body shudder, but feels the twinge in his waist, the slack of his muscles. His hands tighten briefly in Seunghyub’s hair.

“I don’t — I don’t know if I can,” he pants hesitantly. He lowers his eyes, unable to meet Seunghyub’s inquiring gaze. “Yesterday was so — _much_.”

For as much as he wants it, Hun’s body can’t take something like that again, not this soon. He has a bone deep lethargy settled in his marrow and taking Seunghyub again so soon would make him fall apart like wet paper. Seunghyub pulls back and Hun’s hands fall away, Seunghyub’s hands falling out from between them.

This suddenly doesn’t seem like the best start to their newly developed situation.

Then, Seunghyub says, “what if we switched? I’m not picky.”

Hun’s eyes widen, his mouth falling open, and Seunghyub’s face is so considerate, so earnest, his eyebrows raised slightly in question as he waits for Hun’s answer.

The effect is immediate; Hun’s legs snap together, his hand rocketing down to squeeze the base of his dick to stop the storm of arousal that tears through him. He’s stripped of all exhaustion in an instant, adrenaline pumping through his veins like a drug and rushing loud in his ears. Hun falls forward, his mouth crashing against Seunghyub’s in desperation.

Seunghyub lets out a quiet grunt and his hands immediately come up to hold Hun in place, a self satisfied smile blooming against Hun’s lips. When they pull apart, Hun a little drunk off Seunghyub’s mouth, Seunghyub fixes him with a knowing look.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he says with a chuckle.

“ _God_ , yes,” Hun groans, eyes going half lidded.

Seunghyub’s eyes darken and the strange, subdermal burn from yesterday returns, sparking along every point of contact underneath Hun’s skin.

“Oh my god,” he gasps and his fingers tighten on Seunghyub’s shoulders as an emphatic heat rises up his torso, every knob in his spine tingling with fiery electricity.

He’d felt it yesterday but it hadn’t been this strong, didn’t become stronger with each passing second. Seunghyub kisses him, lips pressing into the space beside Hun’s earlobe before he lays back on the bed, spread out over the sheets, limbs sprawling and hair falling back from his face.

Hun’s mouth goes dry, throat clicking as he swallows, his jaw clenched tight. Seunghyub’s eyes beckon him forward, an inviting smile waiting pleasantly on his lips. He reaches out a hand and Hun takes it without thought, his palm placed in Seunghyub’s automatically, a hot knot of desire constricting in his belly. The mattress is soft beneath his knees, blankets bunching up as he shuffles forward when Seunghyub draws Hun to him. Hun hovers above Seunghyub and his chest hitches in anticipation, his arm still outstretched before him.

Seunghyub brings Hun’s hand to his mouth, kisses Hun’s knuckles, his lips grazing over the skin like the whisper of a falling petal. It’s reverent, gentle, and Hun’s lungs seize, breath caught in his throat at the grace of a demon. He has no time to lay himself down before Seunghyub pulls Hun to his chest, their bodies lined up, Hun stretched out over Seunghyub and tucked between his arms. It feels more loving than it has any right to be and a scratching flush sweeps down Hun’s back like rain water, trickling down to pool in his hips with insistency.

He takes Seunghyub’s face in his hands and kisses him deeply, palms pressed against Seunghyub’s jaw, fingers curling around the back as he sucks the breath right out of Seunghyub and into his own lungs. Seunghyub is a respirator, his lifeline, the buoy keeping him afloat out at sea as he struggles not to capsize under the waves of desire crashing around him. An insistent tremble works its way into his arms, traveling with a warm tingle into his hands and back out again, dripping down into his groin until he’s moving against Seunghyub, too gently to be called a rut but too desperately to be called an accident.

There’s nothing veiled about the way that Seunghyub’s hips push up against his though, his hands laced at the base of Hun’s spine, locking him into place as he circles up against him. Hun breaks away with a ragged gasp, his forehead falling against the sheets in the space beside Seunghyub’s head. They move together, Hun’s hips pushing deep, Seunghyub’s skin smoldering like hot coals, bleeding into Hun like scalding steam. When it gets to be too much, when Hun’s muscles start to tighten and the press of his hips becomes a little too persistent, he pulls away.

Seunghyub’s mouth is dark, his eyes clear even through the haze of his messy hair. He watches Hun shuffle back and sit on his heels, hands careful as he pushes Seunghyub’s knees up and settles himself between them.

Hun presses his lips to the inside of Seunghyub’s thigh, dragging his mouth across the skin as he runs a hand down Seunghyub’s leg. Down he goes and his fingers brush against Senghyub’s rim when fingers wrap around his wrist, halting him.

“No need,” Seunghyub murmurs and draws Hun to him. “I’m already ready.”

Hun pauses. “What?”

“Don’t worry, no preparation necessary.” He kisses along Hun’s jaw, unheading of Hun’s hammering heart. “The perks of being an incubus.”

Heat flashes through Hun, tearing down his spine and lodging in the cradle of his pelvis, leaving him dizzy. His legs are shaking, hardly able to hold him up, and want floods through him. Ears ringing with the surge of his own breath, Hun captures Seunghyub’s mouth, sending a silent prayer to the devil, revelling in the mysterium of demon magic. Seunghyub’s tongue slides against his, fingers tight in Hun’s hair, the only thing keeping Hun from floating away.

Between his legs, his dick throbs harder than it’s ever been in his life. Hun has never been so overcome, so full of desire it threatened to completely overtake him. That is, until he kisses Seunghyub once more and leans his hips back to line himself up, still curled over Seunghyub’s body. Seunghyub lays rosy against the blankets, hair feathered out across his face as red blossoms down his chest. He nips at Hun’s ear lobe and a palm blazes at the nape of Hun’s neck. Hun nudges against his hold, about to push in, when Seunghyub mouths at his ear, his voice pitched low.

“I want you to fuck me so hard I can’t stand.”

Hun’s legs almost give way beneath him, his fingers clamping down into the soft flesh of Seunghyub’s thighs as he tries to gather himself. A puff of air ruffles his hair as Seunghyub chuckles and Hun pushes in, resolved to rise to Seunghyub’s challenge, even if it rips him apart at the seams.

He’s enveloped by a tight, burning heat, Seunghyub’s body so much hotter than Hun could have ever thought possible. Hun’s head drops forward, thinking against Seunghyub’s in a way that would be painful if he could register any other sensation than the pulsing warmth of Seunghyub around him.

“Oh god,” he shudders, and Seunghyub takes in a shaky breath, growing impossibly warmer as he lets out a low groan.

 _Oh_ , Hun thinks, and for the first time in years, he feels as if he’s completely in control of the situation. Watching carefully, Hun draws back and then rolls his hips forward, burying himself fully in Seunghyub as far as he can go. They develop a rhythm together, the tantalizing, soft slap of skin and rough release of air filling out the corners of the room. 

It’s different than every time before, not only for their changed positions; Seunghyub, for the first time, seems to accept pleasure for himself rather than seek to give it. He’s benefitted from every time in the past, undeniably, but he lays willing beneath Hun, pliant and greedier than he’s allowed himself to behave previously. A swell of pride slides through Hun, flowing into the nooks and powering his hips to snap decisively into Seunghyub.

The motion draws out an appreciative moan, the deep sound booming up from Seunghyub’s throat. His hooded eyes bore prettily into Hun, and Hun has the sudden desire to reduce him to a shivering mass, to make good on his silent promise to Seunghyub’s challenge, and finally give back to Seunghyub what Seunghyub has given to him. He is, after all, Seunghyub’s now. Hun rocks his hips, sinking himself in deeper.

“Oh my God,” he breaths and watches as Seunghyub’s mouth falls open, his head falling back. Heat pulses around Hun and he could let himself drown in it but he won’t not just yet. He sits back on his heels enough to see all of Seunghyub, the sweat beading at his temples and the deep rise and fall of his chest.

Seunghyub’s fingers wrap around his wrist and press into his pulse point. They’re synced up, shared blood resonating between them and thrumming in tandem. Hun is heady with power.

“Come on, Hunnie,” Seunghyub says. His hand tightens, nails biting into Hun’s skin, as if threatening to tear him open and spill their blood between them. Hun wants to open him up and bury himself inside Seunghyub’s rib cage, curled up beside his heart. He’s held in place by Seunghyub’s eyes, a challenging smirk lifting the corners of his mouth. “Really give it to me.”

Hun does.

His hips snap forward, hip bones buried in Seunghyub’s soft skin only momentarily before he’s doing it again, driving as deep as he can. He fucks into him, every moan and stuttered breath spurring him on.

“God, you feel so good,” Hun groans, just to feel the way Seunghyub clenches around him, so affected by his words. Drunk on adrenaline and the power Seunghyub allows him, Hun gets cocky.

“Oh my God,” he sighs. “Oh, God.”

He lets the word tumble repeatedly from his lips, dangling it before Seunghyub teasingly and drinking in the way Seunghyub grows hotter beneath his fingertips with every utterance. Seunghyub’s eyes are half lidded, mouth open, cheeks flushed, his face becoming more lascivious each time Hun says it. He looks intoxicated off Hun’s words, and a spell of want flushes through Hun, pulls him under deeper. Hun wants to make Seunghyub feel good.

It works _too_ well; the more he says it, the more Seunghyub burns, electricity singing in Hun’s veins to the call of Seunghyub’s song. It singes down his spine, lodged between his vertebrae, cracking in his ears and sparking at his fingertips. Seunghyub’s pull on him blazes beneath his skin, turning him into wisps of ash. There’s no way that Hun can last like this, not with Seunghyub so warm around him, dragging him under and drowning him.

“My God, S-Seunghyub. Oh God.” He chokes on the words.

Hun is consumed.

“Hun,” Seunghyub growls. _Mine_ , Hun hears.

His hips stutter, pounding into Seunghyub only a few more times before he comes, pumping into Seunghyub in a way that leaves him shaking. Not a moment later, Seunghyub cries out, Hun’s pleasure amplified in him, tipping him over the edge. His come splatters against his stomach and Hun stares, dazed, as it pools and runs down Seunghyub’s sides. Unheeding of the mess, Seunghyub pulls Hun down against him and kisses him deeply, preying into Hun’s mouth to swallow him down.

With the motion, Hun slips out of him and Seunghyub moans into his mouth softly, coaxing Hun’s tongue against his. Seunghyub’s come is sticky and slick, cooling between their bodies as Seunghyub runs his fingers through Hun’s hair, kissing him with vigour. He’s bursting with energy, lit up at the seams and radiating satisfaction. Hun relaxes into him, drained, happy to let Seunghyub do as he pleases.

-

It was only a matter of time before Seunghyub got back at him.

Hun knows he pushed it, knows that Seunghyub knows what he was doing, even if it was received with an enthusiastic welcome. But theirs has always been a push and pull kind of relationship right from the start and there’s no particular reason for that to change. It may be sweet, but there _will_ be revenge, Hun is sure of it.

So when he opens the door to his room and is met with the sight of Seunghyub naked, splayed out on the sheets with a hand moving between his legs, his first thought is, _here it comes_. Hun stops in his tracks, eyes unable to stray from the sight as Seunghyub’s eyes lock with his. It sends heat coursing through him, works its way down his body and spreads out to his fingertips until he’s a lit fuse, sparking at the edges, ready to off at any second. Seunghyub has touched him — sweetly, fleetingly — but nothing compares to the intentional caress of a hand selling to deliver pleasure or the way Seunghyub’s fingers dig into Hun’s skin as he holds him down.

Hun longs to have Seunghyub’s hands on him again.

Seunghyub strokes himself, legs falling open as he tips his head back and moans deeply. When his eyes return to Hun’s, there’s a devilish glint there that says, _I know what you want, but you’re not going to have it_. Driving home the point, his eyes bore into Hun’s while he squeezes himself, pushing up into his fist. Come dribbles from the tip and Hun’s dick twitches in interest.

He knows what Seunghyub’s doing and yet he can’t stop himself from playing right into his hands and hardening in his pants in the middle of his room as he watches Seunghyub touch himself. Seunghyub’s tongue swipes across his lips and Hun’s gaze darts down to it, tracking the motion before inevitably straying back down to the hand moving carelessly between his legs. Connection has ceased function between his brain and body, and though Hun tells himself to either look away or step forward, he does neither. He can do nothing at all, in fact, pinned to the spot as if by magic — or just by Seunghyub’s stare alone. 

Hun is being taunted by a demon in his own home and there’s absolutely nothing he can do about it.

“Hun.” Seunghyub stares at Hun through his lashes. “Do you remember?”

 _Remember what?_ Hun wants to ask, but his mouth is dry, lips not even opening around the question.

“I was laying right here,” Seunghyub continues. His head falls back against the pillows and he gazes down the length of his body at Hun still standing frozen by the door. “Right here in this spot as you fucked me.”

Hun’s heart stutters, a nauseating missed beat. As if thrust back into the moment, he can feel Seunghyub around him, something plunging him into the depths of the inferno. A tendril of memory wraps around his waist, pressing into the invisible indentations left there by Seunghyub’s fingers. It feels like a punch to the gut, how turned on he is.

Seunghyub fixes him with a cloying look.

“Do you remember?” Hun can only nod, the front of his pants tented incriminatingly. Like a freight train, Seunghyub is unstoppable. “It was the first time you were ever inside me,” he says, even as his hand slips behind him. Two fingers disappear inside his body. “You felt so good.”

The words break on a moan, long and drawn out, and Hun’s legs shake, his heart in his throat. His breath is shallow, every fiber of his being focused on the figure in front of him. Seunghyub’s eyes sweep down Hun’s body, as if their positions were switched, his stare tearing into Hun’s skin and settling in his bones. Hun swallows heavily, his throat thick. A burning picks up beneath his skin, a dead giveaway of Seunghyub’s influence on him. It’s subtle at first, but then it grows, spreading, and engulfs Hun in a fever that can’t be ignored. Seunghyub spreads himself open.

“I want to feel you again.”

Hun’s knees nearly buckle and he stumbles as a wet patch grows steadily at the front of his pants. Precome leaks from him freely, even as he struggles to stay standing in place. He can’t catch his breath. From within, the heat is suffocating him, fire filling his lungs like water. The desire to get Seunghyub’s hands on him is so strong that Hun aches from it.

“Hun,” Seunghyub grounds, fingers deep inside.

“Oh God, Seunghyub, please.” Hun’s voice rasps from him, desperate and thin.

Seunghyub’s eyes sweep over him. “Come here,” he beckons Hun forward.

Hun moves on weak legs, tripping toward the bed like a newborn fawn

“Sit there.” Seunghyub nods at the food of the bed and Hun goes down quickly, collapsing onto the mattress, eyes never straying from him. The corner of Seunghyub’s lips tilt up as he settles himself in. He has one hand behind him, three fingers deep, the other gliding steadily over his dick. When he catches Hun’s eye, the smile is still there, at odds with the huskiness of his voice.

“You can look, but you can’t touch.”

The meaning is ambiguous and Hun doesn’t seek clarity, ready to sink or swim in Seunghyub’s rapids. He rests his hands against the bed, his wrists bent at odd angles, and leans back to remove the temptation to touch.

And then he looks.

Seunghyub’s chest is flushed, faint red splashing all the way down from his ears, down his neck, and out across the muscle stretched taut beneath his skin.

“I have a question,” Seunghyub says lazily, hands working without rush. His thumb slides over the head of his dick and swipes the come beading there across his skin.

Hun makes a strangled sort of sound that barely passes as a response. The heat has died down, but only just, and it’s making it difficult for him to focus on much else but Seunghyub’s fingers. They’re not even on him but they steal away all of his attention.

“Did you do it on purpose?” Seunghyub spreads his legs wider and his foot is centimeters from brushing Hun’s knee. Heat radiates off of him, palpable, kissing Hun’s skin and burrowing underneath, even through the fabric of his pants. A vine of it works its way into the base of Hun’s spine, coits itself tight, and waits. When Seunghyub makes an inquiring noise, Hun realizes he’s supposed to answer.

“Huh?” Hun tears his eyes away and forces them up to Seunghyub’s face. Seunghyub smiles slowly, unruffled.

“Did you tease me on purpose? Call me ‘God’ just to see what I would do?” He pushes his hips up, fucking into his hand with Hun’s eyes on him. “Don’t lie to me now.”

“Yes,” Hun croaks.

He’s burning up. Parched. Water, water everywhere and not a drop to drink.

Eyes slipping closed, Seunghyub tilts his head back, throat bared to the world. On anyone else, it would look vulnerable — naked and spread out on display — but on Seunghyub it looks powerful. Controlled. He could level countries with a quirk of his lips. Hun has no misconceptions — Seunghyub has been the one called the shots since the moment Hun walked through the door. For once, he’s willing to play subservient and not push back against Seunghyub. He doesn’t need to prove that they’re on equal footing, not when Seunghyub’s only doing this because Hun is letting him get away with it, just like Seunghyub let Hun press every single button, hammering home on the one he knew Seunghyub liked best.

 _God_.

This is just keeping the playing field level. Hun wants to see what happens.

“I thought as much.” Hun traces the cords in Seunghyub’s bared neck, dips into his clavicle and follows the lines of Seunghyub’s body down over the protrusion of his hips. Seunghyub gives a long, slow stroke and his thighs flex as he pushes against his hands. “What would you do if I teased you?”

Hun swallows, waiting.

“You’re impatient. Quick to temper.” Seunghyub cracks his eyes open, staring at Hun from beneath lowered lashes. “But I think you could take it.”

There’s something salacious about the way he smiles at Hun, a hand on his dick as he stares Hun down like he wants to eat him. A chain of fire is set off, bursting under Hun’s skin like a broken capillary, filling him with sweet poison. Hun’s dick throbs, neglected but not forgotten. He wants to touch Seunghyub, to have Seunghyb’s hands run along his skin. But he can’t touch.

Seunghyub doesn’t make it easier when he says, “still, I liked you teasing me.” Hun can only stare helplessly as Seunghyub quickens his hand, his voice deepening to a breathy groan. “I liked it so much. Could you feel it?”

He moans, head tossing against the wall. Seunghyub has never known shame, that much is apparent as he leaks all over himself, all over Hun’s sheets, while Hun watches. An itch creeps through Hun’s blood, ignited by Seunghyub, and his hands twitch restlessly. He grips the sheets more firmly so that he _doesn’t touch_ , even as his stomach clenches, legs shaking beneath him. Hun has never been quite so around with absolutely nothing to do about it.

A faint, pathetic whimper breaks past his lips and only encourages Seunghyub.

“I want to feel you again,” he moans, driving it home. “I want to show you just how much I liked it.”

Hun is shivering, balanced on an impossible tightrope, teetering off the edge.

“You’re my own,” Seunghyub says. He looks at Hun, eyes blown out. “I want you to come inside me again and show me that I’m yours too.”

Hun careens over the side.

The sensation hits him like a typhoon, waves surging up from nowhere and yanking him under. He comes, the orgasm shaking him in its grip, scouring through him in sudden intensity. Hun cries out as it happens, the sheets clutch in his grasp as he shudders and coats the inside of his pants in thick, stickly ropes, completely untouched.

Seunghyub moans again, a decidedly pleased note ringing in his voice. The fire in Hun spikes up and incinerates him, a brushfire burning through him for a white moment as Seunghyub strokes himself before he lets out a deep moan. Hun shivers all the way through Seunghyub’s orgasm, twitching in his pants as come splatters across Seunghyub’s chest. He feels every phantom touch as Seunghyub strokes himself down.

It's altogether unlike anything that’s ever happened to Hun and he sits, rigid and disoriented, while Seunghyub runs his fingers over his come covered chest thoughtfully. Even now, torn apart as he is, Hun wants Seunghyub’s hands on him. He just doesn’t know how to ask for it.

Sensing Hun’s hesitation — or otherwise taking what’s ripe for the picking — Seunghyub hoists himself up and leans over to Hun, falling into him for a sloppy kiss. His chest rubs against Hun’s smearing opalescent come across Hun’s shirt as he licks into Hun’s mouth, sucking on his tongue. Seunghyub drinks the energy right out of him, reducing Hun to a weak, fluttering mass in his arms.

Through the haphazard kiss, Seunghyub hums happily. Where Hun is drained and sleepy, Seunghyub is clearly rejuvenated, pawing at Hun softly and stroking his fingers through his hair. Though Hun’s not one to just roll over and show his belly in submission, he _does_ enjoy being pampered. Thus, he lets Seunghyub scatter quick, wet kisses down the column of his neck, a hand clutched steadying on Seunghyub’s bare hip.

Overwhelming as the sneak attack was, it’s the best revenge Hun has ever been served. If this is what he has to look forward to, he thinks he may fight back more often.

-

Sweat drips, rolling down the cords of Hun’s neck and gathering in the hollow of his throat. He’s burning up, a veritable flame lit upon his skin beneath evern gentle caress of Seunghyub’s fingertips. Seunghyub is teasing, working him up with the rhythm of his hips even as he seeks to soothe with the hand tangled in Hun’s hair and massaging at his scalp. His mouth slides over Hun’s chest and lingers on the spot above his trembling heart.

The room is sweltering, filled with the heat of their breath, the warmth generated between their bodies as Hun tumbles against Seunghyub. Hun sees Seunghyub through a haze of pleasure, Seunghyub’s image flickering before him like the rippling waves rising from the burning pavement. He kisses Hun and rolls into him, a hand bracing Hun’s hips. With a cry muffled by Seunghyub’s mouth, Hun’s legs flex and his hips push up off the bed.

“Oh, God,” he groans, shoulders digging into the mattress.

“Say it again,” Seunghyub says with his mouth at Hun’s jaw. He pulls out slowly then thrust in deep with a snap of his waist.

“God, do that again.” Seunghyub complies eagerly and fucks into him, taking care to hit that same spot until Hun’s arms are tight around his shoulders, clutching Seunghyub to him and hanging on as Seunghyub rocks into him. “God.” His breath flutters against Seunghyub’s hair. “You’re driving me crazy.”

Hun mouths at Seunghyub’s ear, closing his teeth around the lobe and tugging. He’s found that by now, it’s easier just to let go than to try and hold back. There’s no point in restraint; Seunghyub is much more apt to fall to Hun’s demands when he doesn’t beat around the bush. Surprise, surprise. For his part, Seunghyub doesn’t seem to mind it in the slightest, instead, only encouraging Hun with the way he presses into him.

“How can I make you feel this good?”

Hun expects to hear something like “ _you already are_ ”, but what Seunghyub does instead is slow until he halts completely, still inside Hun. His gaze burns a hole through him.

“What is it?”

“Do you want to try something?” Seunghyub asks. The way he says it has Hun curious, agreeing before he can even think to ask what Seunghyub means. Seunghyub leans down to kiss him softly and murmur, “tell me if you don’t like it.”

It starts imperceptibly, a nearly indiscernible tingling in his veins that strengthens into a vibration so intense it rings in Hun’s head like a bell. Then, a wave of heat floods through him and settles in his chest, nestled right at the bottom of his sternum where it pulses outward. Seunghyub strokes a hand down his skin and tiny bursts of pleasure erupt along Hun’s skin like goosebumps. Arching into the touch, he gasps.

“What’s this?”

“The blood we share resonating through us.”

Carefully, Seunghyub pulls back and thrusts into Hun experimentally. A tight, warm heat engulfs Hun’s dick, his hips jerking automatically, and his breath leaves him in a woosh, slugged right out of him. He can feel Seunghyub around him, as if he were in two places at once, every sensation heightened.

When Seunghyub speaks, his voice is hoarse, an almost drunken flush splashed across his cheeks. “We are connected completely.”

“ _Oh_.”

The word comes out breathy, more air than sound as the realization washes over Hun. Each and every sensation that he feels is experienced too by Seunghyub, their pleasure fed back into itself and amplified in a never ending loop. Hun’s heart pounds and he wonders if Seunghyub can feel that too. The air seems to buzz around them in a shimmering, shifting, clanging daze.

Eyes never straying from Hun’s Seunghyub moves, picking back up a rhythm that has Hun’s head swimming. He clutches at Seunghyub’s wrist, grip like a vice as he tosses his head back and rides down against Seunghyub, body strung tight with pleasure. Seunghyub’s gaze breaks then as his eyes slip shut and his lips part in silent devotion. Hun shivers, the feeling coursing through his nerves.

Hands are on him and then Hun is being hoisted up, his hips resting on Seunghyub’s thighs while his shoulders remain pressed into the mattress. They are slotted together, skin to skin. It tips his world on its axis and drives Seunghyub deeper into him, his thumbs pressing into Hun’s hip bones.

Seunghyub feels so good — in him, around him, everywhere all at once — and Hun pants, writhing against the bed as Seunghyub’s moan fills the air. Hun wants them to feel even better. He raises his legs and throws them over Seunghyub’s shoulders, and Seunghyub pauses for only a microsecond before picking up the pace and pounding into Hun. His thighs seem to tremble beneath Hun and Hun lets go.

“God,” he calls out, letting the word pour from his lips again and again. Seunghyub is burning all around him, a pocket of volcanic fire blazing out of control.

An electric current whips up Hun’s spine, crackling between each vertebrae and scorching from the inside out. His legs dangle over Seunghyub’s back, so he locks them at the ankle, heels pressing to urge Seunghyub on. Seunghyub thrusts into him, all finesse stripped from his movements, distilled down into nothing but desire and the seeking motion of his hips. He’s powerful and beautiful and Hun is all his.

Heat flourishes rapidly in Hun’s stomach at that, his muscle clenching as he arches up against Seunghyub, his moan mingling with the twin sound that simultaneously falls from Seunghyub’s mouth. Seunghyub is breathing hard, sweat beading at his temples, but his hips never falter, cresting into Hun with an urgency only Hun will ever understand. His thumbs bruise at Hun’s skin, a softened peach, but Hun pays it no mind for the pleasure coursing through him.

Wanting to see Seunghyub shudder, Hun wraps a hand around himself and strokes, messy and uncoordinated. It does the trick, Seunghyub’s legs shaking as he chokes out a rumbling moan, face tipped up to the ceiling in ecstasy.

“Hun, my Hun.”

“Seunghyub, oh my God,” he cries, his hand speeding up.

In turn, Seunghyub thrusts faster, as if he’s pushing into Hun’s hand. Hun’s name rests on his lips, the name preciously formed.

“Hun,” he groans.

Hun touches himself as he would Seunghyb, strokes hard and fast, presses up into his hand and down onto Seunghyub’s dick, rocked by Seunghyub’s motion. Seunghyub’s hand closes over his and Hun spills into their hands, unable to think, his body moving on its own as a keening whine tears from his throat.

Seunghyub follows right behind him, a cut off moan catching in his mouth as he spills into Hun, filling him. It’s warm and sticky, smouldering inside him even as Seunghyub slips out. Come drips from Hun as he lowers shaky legs from Seunghyub’s shoulders, spread across the sheets like he’s been frayed apart. Seunghyub stretches himself across Hun, seeking out his mouth and licking into it hungrily. Hun preens sleepily under his attention, lavished with affection and soaking it up like a thirst starved flower.

Despite Seunghyub’s enthusiasm, he keeps it lazy and slow for Hun’s benefit, reigning back the energy practically radiating from him. Hun slides a hand into Seunghyub’s hair, grip light on the strands as he holds Seunghyub to him, discontent to let him go. Not put upon in the slightest, Seunghyub obliges readily, more than happy to kiss Hun until the sun dies.

While Hun can’t say the same, exhausted as he is from the expense of energy sucked down by the demon above him, he’ll take what he can get. What he gets now is a hand at his jaw, cupping his face, and a soft pair of lips covering his skin raindrop kisses. Hun kisses back once more, lingering against Seunghyub’s mouth, before he pushes sluggishly at Seunghyub’s chest.

Seunghyub rolls off of him, an accepting arm coming up around Hun when he cuddles into Seunghyub’s side. The gentle motion of a hand caressing his back and the lullaby of Seunghyub’s steady, calm breathing carry him off to a deep sleep.

When Hun dreams, there’s not a single Night Mare in sight.

**Author's Note:**

> if you can't summon the flames directly from hell, store bought is fine - someone who lied to hun
> 
> i started this and fever dream last year before seunghyub's birthday because my dumbass brain thought these were an appropriate show of appreciation. it took me a whole damn year to finish both and then get this up even tho i finished it four months ago?????? i don't have excuses i'm sorry time is fake
> 
> anyway hbd hyub
> 
> and the biggest of thanks always and forever to [the babe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_queenmaker/pseuds/the_queenmaker) for all the help even tho the world is a fuck. she asked if hun worked or was in school or something and tbqh i gave it not even a single thought!!! because my brain deemed it completely!! irrelevant !!!! she posits it exists in quarantine so if you wanna roll with that it's chill
> 
> hope you're all doing good. come check me out on [twitter](https://twitter.com/airedis9) for nonsense and an upcoming deleted scene. happy halloween ♡


End file.
